


The Bakes of Wrath

by paddypads



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Great British Bake Off Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paddypads/pseuds/paddypads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lily Evans and James Potter are contestants on the 2015 Great British Bake Off. Lily is determined to beat James. James is determined to win. And to make good cakes. Rivalries and Twitter wars ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_lrightevans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_lrightevans/gifts).



> Chloe Alrightevans is wholly responsible for the fact that I am writing this fic. It will be updated once a week, a few days after the Bake Off airs. Each chapter is going to mimic the episode it follows. The contestants Tamal and Flora are being replaced by James and Lily for the purposes of this fic, so elements of their bakes will appear in this fic. Also there'll be some things about the interactions between contestants later in the coming chapters, but I'm still easing my way into this fic. I am also fudging the filming schedule. The GBBO is filmed a few months in advance of when it airs. I'm ignoring that and saying that they film each episode the weekend before it airs, for reasons of plot.

It started with cakes, which was unusual for a rivalry.

It was the first Wednesday of August, two thousand and fifteen, or, possibly, the first and second of that month when it began. Later, once it was over, the precise dates would be debated by those involved.

A great tradition of the British summer is the Bake Off. It had risen from a BBC Two curiosity in twenty-ten to a yearly phenomena. Thousands of people had applied for a spot on the Bake Off. Twelve had been chosen. The odds of two of them knowing one another, even as friends-of-a-friend were overwhelmingly small.

And yet.

  

* * *

 

 

The first week was cakes. The first week was always cakes. Lily knew that. Lily was _prepared_. She could cope with cakes. She’d been practising for months, ever since they’d told her she had a place. It was going to be okay. She could do this. Deep breaths; walk into the tent.

Lily had always thought that “tent” wasn’t really the right word for it. It was more like a marquee. You couldn’t get twelve cooking stations in a _tent_. There was an interesting lead-like feeling in her stomach as she looked around at the others. She’d meant to do it on the bus, but she’d been too nervous to even consider speech. Middle aged women, three of them, and two younger ones. Pretty standard. There were some guys, most of them hovering around their forties, and one who looked like he was in his thirties, maybe. Lily wondered if she was the youngest contestant there.

That was when she saw him. He couldn’t have been much older than her, he was probably the same age. And good god, he was _cute_. Messy black hair that stuck up everywhere, an easy half-smile and glasses- nobody had any business being that fit. Behind the glasses were brown eyes. Possibly the loveliest brown eyes Lily Evans had ever seen. He walked to the station in front of hers hers, and perched himself on the counter top.

“Morning,” he grinned. “How’re you?”

“Terrified,” Lily admitted, with a slightly forced smile. “You?”

“My hands have been shaking since I got the call saying I was in,” the guy kept on grinning, but held up one of the shaking hands in demonstration. “I’m Potter,” he added. “James Potter.”

“Lily Evans,” she narrowed her eyes a little. “Say, do you always introduce yourself like you’re James Bond?”

“Only when confronted with slightly intimidating beautiful women,” James kept smiling. Lily thought it was slightly disconcerting, but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and put it down to nerves.

“Well, thanks,” Lily felt her smile falter a little. It probably looked more like a grimace. “I’ll try not to put you off your baking.”

“Yes, that might be cheating,” James smirked. “I think they’re starting filming. Good luck.”

“You too.”

 

It was twenty-four hours of filming over two days. Somehow, it felt to Lily that it was a heartbeat. Most of the filming didn’t need the contestants, not really. The camera crews came around every ten minutes during the challenges to ask them questions, and Mary and Sue would come to see how they were getting on. Lily quite liked that bit. When the cameras were near, James ceased his constant torrent of nervous cursing. Some of his word choices were really quite spectacular. Lily was going to have to remember “son of an ineffective spatula” for later.

As she hovered nervously over her cake, a shadow appeared.

“How’s your crack looking?”

Lily’s first instinct was to glare, before she realised what he was talking about. She relaxed, and smiled. “It’s looking good. See?”

“Miss Evans, you have a lovely crack. Truly magnificent. Beautiful, some might say. I would be one of them.” James grinned.

“Oh, you flatter me,” Lily smiled back. “And how’s _your_ crack looking?”

“It’s very well defined, if I do say so myself,” James gestured to his cake.

“I’m very impressed,” Lily admitted, squinting at the cake. “How’s your candied fruit coming?”

“I hate making candied fruit,” James said, with a theatrical groan. “I hate it. It’s so fiddly and I’m generally rubbish at it and today it feels like my whole life depends on it. I’m considering throwing myself in the bin to avoid it.”

“That’s quitter talk,” Lily said, shaking her head. “You get on with it, I’m sure you’ll be great.”

“Oh, probably,” James grinned. “I hear that I often am.” And, with that, he turned back to his baking, still smiling. He was _always smiling._

Perhaps if Lily hadn’t been in possession of one of the most competitive souls on God’s own earth, she’d have been able to admit that it was endearing. That, and the way that James would joke around in the little breaks between filming, the way he’d sing to himself while he was cooking. It’d be cute, if it he wasn’t such a damn good baker. Because he was good. And being good made him competition. Lily knew, logically, that everyone there was competition, except maybe Stu, who’d put chocolate in his madeira cake, but in her mind, James was the priority. The problem was, as well as she did, James had done better. He’d _injected his cake with lemon syrup_. Lily was a _trainee nurse._ How did she not think of that?

 

And then it had been the technical challenge, which was probably the most stressful thing Lily had ever done. Although none of it had gone wrong, until she’d snapped one of her sponges in half, everything had been salvageable. Once the frosting was on, nobody had noticed a thing. The icing had gone and sodding crystallised, though, which made her want to shout at things. Mostly the icing. And her walnuts, which were apparently chopped too small.

Lily had come sixth. James had come fourth.

She wanted to scream.

 

The showstopper had been a chance to get it back. She would beat James Potter. She would. It had become _vital_. James Potter, with his face and his arse and his sense of humour was going _down_.

For a while, Lily was too busy to pay much attention to what James was doing, so for a change, they didn’t speak, although she did hear him quietly insulting his acetate. She ignored him, and carried on with her piping and her pink sponges. She did everything she could, but, when she too her black forest gateau to the judges, it was declared as lacking in alcohol. Lily had taken her exceptionally tall cake away, internally declaring that Paul was an alcoholic. It made her feel a little better.

And then James had presented a cake with a collar, a beautifully wrought chocolate extravaganza. And the judges had loved him. Of course, his cake had been not only a work of art, but delicious.

_Damn him._

At least he hadn’t been star baker. That would’ve been too much. But he was just as safely in the competition as Lily was. That was probably because neither of them had gone and put chocolate in their madeira cake. Lily was pretty sure that she’d go to her grave swearing that the chocolate in the madeira cake was the reason Stu had been the first to be kicked off the show.

But it was okay. Lily had made it through the first week. She’d go home, and the next weekend, she’d be back. And the next weekend, she was going to _kick James Potter’s arse._

  

* * *

 

**the prettiest boy** @padfoot

bake off tonight!! looking forward to watching my boy @prongs on the telly

 

**the mastermind** @prongs

@padfoot shut up shut up im so nervous

 

**the prettiest boy** @padfoot

@prongs YOU HAVE ALREADY DONE IT IT’S JUST A RECORDING

 

**all my friends are idiots** @moony

@padfoot @prongs you two are //sat next to each other//

 

**i am not an idiot** @wormtail

@moony you’re also sat next to them! we are all sat together

 

**all my friends are idiots** @moony

@wormtail stop being right

 

* * *

 

“But are you _sure_ it’s not weird to watch yourself on telly?” James asked, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to be weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Remus said.

“I don’t care if it’s weird,” Sirius settled himself on Remus’ lap. “I’m watching it. I am not being deprived of the Great British Bake Off just because one of my mates is in it.”

“Two of my mates are in it,” Peter said, rather unexpectedly. As one, all his friends turned to look at him.

“What?” Sirius said, with his usual eloquence.

“She’s a mate from uni,” Peter shrugged. “Lily Evans, yeah? She’s on the nursing course, she was in my halls this year.”

“It’s… that Lily Evans?” James blinked. “Lily Evans from your halls is the same Lily Evans that’s on the workstation behind mine?”

“Can you stop saying ‘Lily Evans’?” Sirius asked. “Only, it’s getting weird.”

“It’s her,” Peter nodded. “Don’t worry though, mate. I’m rooting for you.”

“You never told me she was beautiful!” James shook his head. “She’s… she’s so gorgeous. And intimidating.”

“You fancy her.” Sirius said, pointing an accusing finger at his friend. “That’s your fancying a girl look. You _fancy_ her!”

“One day,” Remus said, “one day, it’ll be like you two aren’t dating.”

“Jealous, Moony?” James grinned.

“Weirded out. You can’t go calling each other brothers and then flirt,” Remus shrugged, which was something of an achievement given the way that Sirius had draped himself over the other boy. James marvelled that Remus could move at all. He’d had a lot of experience of Sirius’s particular brand of physical affection and often found it very physically restricting.

“We can’t?” Sirius frowned. “Why not?”

“That’s incest,” Peter pointed out. “It’s not normally considered acceptable.”

“We’re not _actually_ related,” James flushed. “And we don’t flirt.”

“Anyway, shut up, everyone. It’s _starting_ ,” Sirius flung an arm out to point at the telly. “I have to see this. It’s essential for my emotional wellbeing.”

It was probably pathetic, no, it was _definitely_ pathetic, but James payed the most attention when Lily was onscreen.

Oh god, he had a problem.

 

* * *

 

**Severus Snape** @torturedgenius

If Lily Evans doesn’t win this thing then it’s a travesty. #GBBO2015

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, hey, guys, check this out. Check this out.” Sirius waved a hand for silence. It took a few minutes and a wolf-whistle until he got it. “I was checking the twitter tag, right?’

“Of course you were,” Remus rolled his eyes. “What did you find?”

“So there’s a bloke supporting Lily,” Sirius grinned. “And I thought, I wonder what’s with this guy? He’s very adamant in his support. And the first thing you should know is that his header photo is a photo of him and Lily at what looks like prom, and her hair’s _brown_. The second thing you should know is that his twitter handle is tortured genius. And the third thing is I want to read you his profile.”

“Is there a particular reason you want to read us his profile?” James asked. “Only, I was about to go and take a piss.”

“You need to hear this. Everyone needs to hear this. Come on, two seconds, please?” Sirius fixed James with his best puppy eyes.

“Oh, fine,” James sighed. “Go, go on, get on with it.”

“Okay, his bio is like four sentences, which are as follows: _Chemistry god. Brooding loner. Misunderstood. History not hate_.”

“History not hate?” James repeated. “You’re kidding.”

“No. Says it right here. I’d keep an eye on this Lily if I were you,” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “If this bloke, who is either her best friend or her boyfriend, I can’t tell which from twitter, is a confederate flag supporter, chances are she is too.”

“That doesn’t sound like Lily,” Peter said, frowning. “She’s kind of… you know, chair of the feminist society and she’s always been nice to me. And in case you hadn’t noticed, y’know,” he gestured to himself. “Black.”

“She didn’t seem like she had a problem with me,” James pointed out. “And I’m hardly white, am I?”

“I’m going to stalk this guy,” Sirius declared. “And find out exactly what his relationship with Lily is. And then I’ll get back to you. Now go to the loo before you wet yourself, yeah?”

“Right,” James said, and left. He was suddenly looking forward to the next weekend a lot less. Still, there would always be biscuits.


	2. Biscuits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: A racial slur is used at the very end of this chapter.   
> On a lighter note, an overdue credit. Snape's Twitter bio and handle, used in chapter one, are courtesy of my good friend Harvey. Thank you for your help, friend.

James wasn’t accustomed to being nervous over biscuits. They didn’t typically inspire such high levels of nausea and terror in him. But then, he wasn’t usually asked to bake twenty-four identical biscotti after taking three goes to walk into a tent. James wasn’t quite sure how they had been walking wrong, and had reached the conclusion that being on television was weird.

James took his place in his workstation, and tried to stop himself from checking that he had everything he needed. He’d never considered it when watching the show, but to have the right ingredients, they had to be told in advance what they’d be making for the signature and showstopper bakes. There was a matter of ordering ingredients, after all. James was itching to check that he had everything he needed from the second he walking into the tent. He could almost hear Sirius calling him a control freak.

 

Theoretically, biscotti were extraordinarily difficult. In practise, this was correct. It was a waiting game, and it involved a surprising amount of maths. James wasn’t really a fan of the maths. He was doing a degree in sports training; maths had been heartlessly abandoned at GCSE. It didn’t help that his dough had turned itself into a ciabatta shape. He could only hope that it boded well for bread week. 

James sliced his accidental ciabatta into twenty-six carefully measured slices, and prayed to anybody who might be listening that only two would go wrong. As it turned out, they all went wrong. Paul, who James decided then and there that he didn’t like, declared that he was lacking an overarching flavour. It wasn’t a good start to the weekend.

Things went a little better for Lily, James noted. Her traditional wedding biscotti met with Mary’s approval, although they were lacking in shape. It wasn’t the most charitable of attitudes, but James couldn’t help but be jealous. Jealous, and infused with a fairly strong urge to kick Lily Evans’ arse, which was new. Previously, he’d had rather friendlier thoughts about her arse.

 

But then it was time for lunch, and James thought it was probably time to stop thinking about other people’s backsides. It was probably not something he should admit, but lunch was one of James’ favourite parts of being on the bake off. He’d always been a sucker for a buffet, especially one with so many vegetarian options.

“Alright, Evans?” James said, taking the seat opposite her. It wasn’t the only seat left, but there was a vague chance of privacy if they were at the far end of the table. Not that James was even sure if he wanted to broach the subject of the confederate flag. It was a tricky topic to segway into.

“Ooh, last names is it?” Lily arched one eyebrow, smirking. “I’m doing quite well. Terrified for the technical, though. And disappointed with the biscotti.”

“Ah, yes, the disappointing biscotti,” James grinned, despite himself. “That’s a feeling I’m familiar with.”

“Still, it was only one challenge,” Lily smiled encouragingly. “We have two more to get it back, you know?”

“Yes,” James agreed. “But so does everybody else.”

“Well, thank you for that, my parade really needed raining on.” Lily scooped up a forkful of pasta. “Baking is meant to be fun. It’s more stress than fun now, you know? But like, the exhilarating kind of stress.”

“There’s a fun kind of stress?” James raised his eyebrows. “I’ll have to look into that. But, hey, you know a guy called Peter Pettigrew, right?”

“I- what?” Lily looked nonplussed. “Pete? Yeah, he was in my halls first year at uni… You know Pete?”

“Yeah, we went to the same school. He’s one of my best friends,” James shrugged. “Small world, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s so weird.” Lily laughed, almost nervously. James didn’t know why she’d be nervous, though, so he ignored it. “A really big coincidence, you know?”

“I promise, I’m not making it up. Cross my heart and hope to die. I will pinkie promise if you want,” James smiled. He was aiming for reassuring, but he wasn’t quite sure how close he got. “Wait, actually…” he pulled his phone out of his pocket, and unlocked it. There, on the screen, only slightly obscured by the time, was a photo of James, Sirius, Remus and Peter.

“Oh, wow,” Lily stared for a few seconds. “You’re one of those friendship groups, huh?”

“Yeah, my mum calls us co-dependent. But then, she adopted my best mate so I’m not sure she can blame only us for that, you know?” James smiled. “So, you know Pete, I know Pete. D’you think that’s a Bake-Off first?”

“It’s got to be,” Lily nodded. “Although, that six degrees of separation theory thing says that we should somehow be connected to _everyone_ here.”

“That,” James said, taking a bite of his sandwich, “is too weird to think about.”

 

The technical challenge was James’ idea of hell. It didn’t help that the camera crew had decided that his constant stream of furious mutterings were television worthy.

“These are really helpful instructions,” James said, feeling slightly hysterical. “It just says _make the dough_. Make the dough. What am I supposed to do with that? Honestly, they’re so… these are the least useful instructions I’ve ever been given.”

“James,” a hand tapped his shoulder, and he turned around to see Lily, leaning over her countertop, and looking concerned. “James,” she repeated. “Breathe. Calm down.”

“Who’s not calm? I’m calm.” James looked down at the recipe in his hand, which was now crumpled into a ball. “I am not calm.”

“You’re really not. Come on, you can do it. Just do your best,” Lily gave him an encouraging smile. “And appreciate that I’m putting my competitive spirit aside for you in this moment, okay?”

“I appreciate it,” James took a few deep breaths. “Okay, I’m calm. I’m okay. I’m fine. I’ve got this.”

As it turned out, James did not have it. He came eighth in the technical challenge. Lily came second. It took about three seconds for his feelings on the subject to change from ‘grateful for encouragement’ to ‘willing to use whatever means necessary to take Lily Evans down.’

 

The bus came to pick them up from the hotel at nine am on Sunday. James, who was in the unpopular habit of waking up at six, was thoroughly bored by the time everybody else was ready to leave. He was sat in the lobby, reading a two-day-old newspaper when Lily flopped down onto the sofa next to him.

“Have you heard about Marie?” she asked, by way of a greeting.

“Have I what?”

“Heard about Marie. Apparently she had some professional training like, thirty years ago, and the _Daily Mail_ is throwing a fit,” Lily shook her head. “It’s ridiculous.”

“The _Daily Mail_ throws fits for a pastime. Have you heard their list of things that cause cancer? It includes both being a man and being a woman,” James shook his head. “The whole paper is a mess. My best mate uses it as a litter tray liner for his cat.”

“That’s… that’s about what it’s good for,” Lily smiled. “Which mate is that, then? Pete talked about you guys all the time. Is it Remus? He seems like the cat sort.”

“No, it’s Sirius,” James grinned. “Valentina, that’s the cat, she _hates_ Remus. We’re yet to figure out why.”

“That’s a tragedy,” Lily shook her head. “An actual tragedy. I think I’d probably cry for about a week if a cat hated me.”

“I’ll keep you away from Val, then. She isn’t terribly fond of girls. Girls, and Remus. Sirius says its internalised misogyny, but I’m sceptical. I don’t think cats have a concept of sexism.”

“I think,” Lily said, seriously, “I think that you might be right.”

“What about you, then? Got any weird friends?” James folded his newspaper and tossed it onto the coffee table.

“All my friends are weird,” Lily’s smiled faltered a little. “I used to know this guy, but he’s not really around much anymore. He got a bit… weird. Not the good weird. We don’t talk now.”

“That’s... that’s unfortunate,” James shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “So, um, to change the subject, how come you’re the only other person ready before the last possible minute?”

“I am so bad at mornings that I made myself get up as early as I could stomach so I could crawl through getting ready at snail’s pace. They’re going to redo my makeup when we get there anyway, it’s not like it matters if I screw up my eyeliner, you know?”

“I always screw up my eyeliner,” James said, with a grin.

 

Sundays were the showstopper day. James liked Sundays best, because he didn’t have to do two bakes. In theory, it was half the stress, although it never worked out that way, because, honestly who in their right mind thinks of putting thirty six biscuits inside a box made of biscuit? James didn’t know. He did know that he didn’t like them very much.

The thing with showstoppers was that he had to pick a theme. Something to base his insane creation around so that it would all make sense. The first thing James thought of was chess, and of his mother’s jewellery box, although why that was, he honestly couldn’t have said. Luckily, although it was still very much his weekend for the cameras, nobody asked.

“It’s a sort of gingerbread,” he said. “Only, it doesn’t have any ginger in it. But I don’t know what else to call it. Anise bread sounds even more pretentious, you know?” Behind him, Lily giggled.

James ignored her, and rolled out his dough to make the box. As he was cutting it into shape, he slipped, and the knife bit into his finger.

“ _Fuck_ ,” James immediately transferred the bleeding finger to his mouth, mumbling more swearwords around it.

“We need a plaster over here!” Lily called, and he could hear that, beneath the concern, she was trying not to laugh.

Once the cut had been disinfected, and the alarmingly blue plaster had been applied, which took the first aid crew less than twenty seconds, James was back to his baking. And, by baking, he meant watching his not-ginger bread getting unreasonably puffy. He had to push aside some despair to get on with making his chequered shortbreads. The rest of the bake passed by in a slightly muddled rush, and desperation to not cut any more of his fingers. His box, which he really hoped looked as much like his mother’s jewellery box as he thought it did, was far, far fatter than it should be. Perhaps it would taste good enough that nobody would notice? He could only hope.

James was jolted out of his baking reverie by the sound of Lily Evans panicking.

“Oh _God_ ,” she sighed. “Oh dammit, my lid’s broken.”

James turned around to survey the damage. Her beautifully decorated box lid had snapped, about a quarter of the way in.

“What do I do? What do I do? I can’t not have a lid, can I? They won’t like that. There’s no time to fix it what do I _do_?” Lily was very definitely talking to herself, but James figured she probably needed a helping hand.

“Relax, Evans,” he tried very hard for a reassuring smile. “It’ll be fine. Just put it on top, and march it on down there like nothing’s wrong. I’m sure they’ll understand. This kind of thing happens.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Of course. It’ll be fine,” Lily shook her head, took a few deep, calming breaths. “Thanks, Potter.”

“Any time.”

  

* * *

 

 

Lily had done much better than she’d expected, considering that only the technical challenge had gone well for her. Watching it back on the telly was still weird, but also sort of fun. It was nice to see what everybody else had been doing. She couldn’t help but be a little scandalised that Dorett had used a pastry cutter, and was still on the show, but Marie, who had been star baker the week before was out.

Lily picked up her phone, and opened twitter.

 

* * *

 

**Lily Evans** @gingey

I probably shouldn’t but I’m calling a conspiracy on Marie going out this week. Retaliation for that “professional training.” #GBBO

 

**the mastermind** @prongs

@gingey you might be onto something there?? I’m really going to miss her.

 

**the mastermind** @prongs

@gingey also your handle thing is a comment on your hair are you serious

 

**the prettiest boy** @padfoot

@prongs @gingey no I’m Sirius

 

**the mastermind** @prongs

@padfoot shut up nobody’s talking to you

 

**Lily Evans** @gingey

@padfoot I’m talking to you. Are you the one with the cat??

 

**the prettiest boy** @padfoot

@gingey my reputation precedes me. yes, it is I, the one with the cat.

  

* * *

 

 

“So, why does Evans know about my cat?” Sirius asked, dropping onto the sofa next to James.

“She came up in conversation,” James shrugged. “I was trying to get onto the subject of her friends. Didn’t get anywhere.”

“But Valentina got dragged into it?” Sirius tutted. “A gentleman shouldn’t slander a lady, Prongs.”

“That monster isn’t a lady,” Remus objected. “She’s a… she’s a monster.”

“Eloquent,” Sirius scoffed. “She’s a sweetheart.”

“Only to you, Padfoot, only to you,” Remus shook his head. “Sign of questionable taste, if you ask me.”

Sirius muttered something that James thought was “Oh, _you’re_ one to talk there,” but he was too preoccupied with the interesting shade of red that Remus had just turned to enquire.

  

* * *

 

 

Lily spent a good five minutes trying to think of something to say about Sirius and his cat, but was mostly stuck on the fact that his name was _Sirius._ That just wasn’t normal. She was fairly sure that there was a star called that. She'd known his name before now, too, so she couldn't quite understand why she was just finding it weird now.

She was startled from her musing by her phone ringing. As she was holding it in her hand at the time, it was nothing short of alarming. Her stomach did something unpleasant when she saw who was calling. Pushing the sensation away, she pressed the green phone.

“Hello, Sev,” she said, in as neutral a tone as she could manage.

“Hello, Lily,” the voice on the other end of the phone sounded the way it always had. She’d sort of hoped it would have changed in the months since they’d stopped talking.

“Why are you calling?” too blunt, she told herself, but she’d said it now, and she couldn’t take it back. “It’s been nearly half a year since you last spoke to me.”

“Well, I saw you on the TV, and I… I wanted you to… I wanted to wish you luck,” even when he wasn’t falling over his words, Severus still left oddly elongated pauses between words.

“Well, thank you,” Lily hesitated. “You could have just… you still have me on Facebook, Sev. And you know my twitter. You didn’t have to call.”

“I missed you,” he replied, “we haven’t talked in such a long time.”

“Well, Severus, that’s because the last time we talked, you went on an anti-immigrant rant. My mother is Polish. I was, as I’m sure you’ll understand, a little offended,” Lily fought to control her temper. She was in a good mood; she wasn’t going to let it be ruined by her ex best friend. Not even a bit.

“I apologised,” maybe Lily was being unfair, but it sounded to her as if Severus’ voice had taken on a distinctly whingey tone. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“I know. But you still said it, Sev,” Lily sighed. “You understand why I’m angry, don’t you?”

There was a pause before “Yes, I do. Can we please talk about something else?”

“Yeah, sure. Hey, hey, Sev. I’m on the telly. I’m almost famous,” Lily couldn’t help laughing. She still got a little rush of giddy excitement when she thought about it.

“I know, I’ve been watching. You’re doing really well.”

“I’m doing okay,” Lily smiled. “Sandy is definitely doing better than me. And Ian and Matt, too. But I think I’ve got a chance to win, you know? I really could.”

“That would be amazing,” Severus said, with genuine enthusiasm. “I hope you do.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. The thing is, though, the guy who’s on the station in front of me, James, he’s really good, too. If I don’t win, then I at least want to beat him, you know? It’s like his talent is offending me,” Lily laughed, her good mood now fully restored.

“James? The paki?”

“Severus Snape, if you repeat that word, I will never, _ever_ speak to you again. Never.” It amazed Lily, how just two syllables, could ruin her day.

“Oh come on, Lily, it’s not a big deal. Everyone says it.”

Lily wondered if Severus knew that all he was doing was digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole.

“Not people I’m friends with,” Lily snapped, and hung up. Her phone began to ring again almost immediately. Severus, calling to apologise, or to demand forgiveness, or something. Resisting the urge to hurl he phone across the room, Lily turned it off, and tossed it amongst the sofa cushions. She’d wake up to half a dozen texts or more, she knew that, but that was the morning. For now, she absolutely refused to deal with her problems, like a real adult. That was the mature thing to do, right?

Sighing, Lily went to the kitchen. Her mum always said that the best way to work out stress was to make bread, and she really did need to practise for the weekend anyhow. The ducks in the park down the road were going to _love_ her next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite Lily's intentions to feed her excess of bread to ducks, I don't advise this as a practise. It can be harmful to them. I just wanted to use the word ducks.


	3. Bread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is currently 2:32am as I post this. I've proofread, and I'm confident it's all in English, but that's all I'm willing to guarantee. Also, something is said at the end of this chapter which is going to form Some Plot. Props to anyone who can guess what it is. My tumblr is alrightblack, my ask is open, shoot me a message or leave a review if you think you got it. You have until next update.

Apparently, James’ ciabatta shaped biscotti _had_ been a good omen for bread week. He was delighted by this. Lily was not. James Potter was not going to beat her. No way.

Before lunch, they made soda breads. Lily put figs and hazelnuts and a blend of flours in hers, because she could. James appeared to be putting goat’s cheese in his. Ordinarily, Lily would’ve paid more attention to what, exactly, he was doing, but she was too busy being nervous. Paul had done his level best to terrify her into changing her planned recipe, but she stood her ground. It was relief to see that Paul wasn’t just picking on her. It actually seemed to be his mode of operations for the day. He’d approach each contestant, ask them about their plans, squint sceptically, say _interesting_ with a frighteningly blank expression, and then wander off, leaving them to worry whether or not they’d made an enormous mistake.

By lunchtime, it turned out that Lily’s only real mistake was wearing pink. This was something of a relief, although she’d had a few panicked moments as she tapped frantically on the bottom of her loaves.

“I just hope they’re cooked. Does that sound hollow?” Lily asked, mostly addressing the question to the air. “What does hollow _sound_ like?”

But nobody answered, because the time was up, and Mary and Paul were coming around. James, on the station in front of hers, was before her. Lily fidgeted nervously as Paul pronounced the verdict. _Gorgeous_. Bloody typical. That was what she had to beat.

She hadn’t been able to help cracking a smile when James, clearly irritated by Paul’s flair for the dramatic had rolled his eyes and said “Just put me out of my misery, will you?” Lily hadn’t been able to see the eye roll, but she could tell it was there. She respected the eye roll.

When her own turn came, the judgement was just as positive, which was nice, but somehow less satisfying because James had got his first. Feeling rather dejected, Lily went to lunch.

 

“So, I don’t mean to alarm you,” James said, dropping into the seat opposite her, “but my best mate’s been looking you up.”

“Sirius?” Lily asked, picking a name at random.

“Yes, actually. You’ve never met him, and even you know that he’s a bit of a stalker when he wants to be,” James shook his head. “I shall have to stage an intervention for him. But, anyway, he found something that’s been bugging me, and this is a really, _really_ shitty way to bring up something like this and-”

“Potter,” Lily said, enjoying the feeling of his name in her mouth, “whatever it is, just spit it out.”

“He found this guy’s Twitter. That’s how it started. And he has a photo of you and him as his cover picture, and he’s, you know,” James hesitated. “A bit of a racist.”

“Severus,” she said. It wasn’t a question, but James nodded as if it had been. “We aren’t friends. We were. But then he called me a _scrounging waste of a job_ , in a fairly indirect fashion, and I stopped talking to him.”

“Christ,” James said, mildly. “What a dickhead.”

“Yeah,” despite herself, Lily smiled. “That was pretty much what I said.”

“Good job you’re not like him,” James said, taking a supremely unconcerned bite of a vegetable samosa. “Because we, and by we I mean my idiot friends and I, were hoping that you might be amenable to joining us for watching ourselves on telly on Wednesday. I’m Pakistani, Peter’s black and Sirius’ family is from a part of East Asia that he either doesn’t know or refuses to specify,” he paused here, considering. “Remus is white, I suppose.”

It took Lily a few moments to process all of this. Once she had, she still wasn’t quite sure that James had actually said any of it. In all fairness, James looked quite surprised that he’d said any of it, too. Once Lily was certain that she hadn’t just experienced auditory hallucinations, which would’ve been worrying, she blinked a few times.

“Okay,” she said. “Do you want a response, or should I pretend that you didn’t just attack me with your verbal diarrheal?”

James appeared to consider this. “Can you ignore all the awkward rambling and answer the invitation part only?”

“That’s fair,” Lily said. “I’ll think about it. Where do you even live?”

“London,” James said, his easy smile returning almost instantaneously. “Is that convenient?”

“It’s not inconvenient,” Lily allowed. “I’ll think about it. Has Sirius found my Facebook yet?”

James hesitated, “uh,” he said, “would it be weird if I said yes?”

“Absolutely, but I appreciate the honesty. Tell him to message me your address.”

“I could do that myself,” James pointed out, not unreasonably. “I could write it on a napkin or something.”

“Do you have a pen?” Lily asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I do!” James rummaged in his pockets, produced a ball of string, three rubber bands and a pencil sharpener, and then, finally, a pen.

Lily resisted the urge to comment on the strange assortment of things that now littered the tabletop, and went back to her lunch while James hastily scribbled on a napkin.

“Here,” he said, pushing it over to her. “Along with my phone number, not that I’m trying to pick you up, although you are frankly spectacular and if you weren’t competition I really honestly might be, but because it seems like it’d be expedient.”

Lily stared again. “You should really see someone about your inability to speak in concise sentences,” she said.

“I know,” James sighed. “It’s only a problem when I’m excited. My mum says it’s endearing.”

“That,” Lily said, not unkindly, “is probably because she’s your mum.”

“I can dream,” James told her.

 

The problem, Lily decided, as she made herself a cup of tea and waited for her baguettes to prove, was that Potter’s mum was _right_. It was a little bit endearing, to know that he was so enthusiastic that his mouth ran away with him. But there wasn’t _time_ for him to be endearing because Lily had baguettes to make, and she was _stressed_. She didn’t need to be. She’d done this before. She was good at baguettes, just as she was at black forest cake, and unlike how she wasn’t at remembering to turn the oven on because it wasn’t an aga here. Lily was having a jolly time with her baguettes when the cameras came over. Mel, ever so gently, asked what she was doing to her oblong lumps of dough.

“I’m just pinching the bottom seams,” Lily said, because she was. She wouldn’t have thought any more of it, only, when the cameras moved away, James burst into laughter.

“That,” he said, gasping for breath, “that was the best innuendo the bake off has ever seen.”

Lily chose not to dignify this with an answer. She was busy turning the same colour as her hair. Maybe that was why, as she was making neat cuts in the baguettes, she slipped, slicing the back of her hand.

“ _Shitdamn_ ,” she hissed, pressing a tea towel to it.

“I’m not sure that’s really a word,” James said, grinning. “Shall I yell for a plaster?”

“Please,” Lily said, sticking her hand under the tap. “Makes us even, I think.”

James shouted for the first aid crew. They rushed over, and did their bit. Lily got her baguettes in the oven on time. All was right with the world.

The plaster didn’t go with her outfit. In fact, Lily was starting to think that the pink shirt had been a mistake. Although, the seams hadn’t been, because Lily came second, and Potter came eighth, and even if she had forgotten the steam in the oven, he could kiss her arse. It was so enormously satisfying to beat him that Lily seriously considered a cartwheel.

 

Lily’s good mood stayed with her into Sunday morning. She didn’t even resent that it was half past six when she got out of bed. She made an effort with her makeup. She used the hotel travel iron on her top before she put it on. This was a good weekend. She was beating James. She might not get Star Baker, but Potter _definitely_ wouldn’t. Today was a good day, she decided, as she settled herself into one of the lobby chairs. Nothing was going to ruin it.

“Morning,” James said, sounding about as cheerful as Lily felt, which was odd. She was happy because she was beating him. Perhaps, she thought, he was just a nicer person than she was.

“Morning,” she said, smiling at him. “Looking forward to today?”

“More bread,” James replied. “What’s not to look forward to?”

“Showstopper bread is going to be fun,” Lily ploughed on. “I’m making a dress.”

“Are you going to wear it?” James asked, with a grin. “Because that might make the judges eating it a bit racy.”

“Get your head out of the gutter, Potter.” Lily shook her head, and surprised herself by smiling. “What’re you making?”

“It’s a surprise,” James said, still grinning. He was a smiley sort of person, Lily had noticed. That was almost endearing, too.

“Please tell me you’ve done it before, at least?” Lily asked, concerned.

“I have, yes. I’m prepared,” James beamed at her. “I’m one hundred percent prepared.”

“Huh,” Lily said, because she didn’t know what else to say.

“So, have you thought?” James asked. “About my offer?”

“You don’t need to make it sound like a drug deal,” Lily pointed out, fiddling with the napkin in her coat pocket.

“But it’s much more exciting and mysterious that way,” James laughed a bright, genuine laugh. “I don’t mean to rush you, I was just curious.”

Lily had made up her mind. She had reached into her pocket to withdraw the napkin and pass it back. For reasons that she couldn’t quite explain, she did not do this. Instead, she removed her hand from her pocket, sans napkin, and folded it in her lap.

“Not this week,” she said, when she’d fully intended to say _no_. “But I’ll come over for dessert week.”

“Ah, dessert week, when we may all finally stop panicking about soggy bottoms,” James smiled. “We’ll cook you dinner, and by we, I mean people who aren’t me, I can only bake. Any dietary requirements?”

“None that I’m aware of,” Lily shrugged. “But if I discover any in the next week and a half, I’ll let you know.”

“Solid,” James grinned. “See you there, then.”

 

As it turned out, James made a bicycle out of bread. A breadcycle. Lily had to bite her tongue to stop herself bursting out laughing when he announced this. Mostly, though, she was bust with her bread-dress, which, tragically, did not have a pun for a name. If it hadn’t been going quite so well, and if she hadn’t been so scared of breaking the bread corset, she might have been frustrated at her lack of a pun. But there were other things to be distracted by. Not least of these was James getting bored, bending over and wiggling his arse as he watched his bread cook. Lily doubted that the bum wiggling was his original intention; he appeared to be humming to himself, and dancing along.

It, just like James’ laugh and the way he rambled when he was excited, was almost endearing.

Lily went back to her baking. Unfortunately, as breadmaking essentially boils down to an awful lot of waiting around for things to be ready, it wasn’t that interesting. She’d have thought that making three different kinds of bread all at once would’ve eliminated all the waiting, but she hadn’t really factored in the part where they had five and a half hours to get it all done. For once, she had time to look at what everybody else was doing. Paul was making a bread lion. Dorret was replicating Lily’s least favourite piece of modern art, which Lily tried not to hold against her. Nadiya was making a goddamn _snake_ , which was probably the coolest thing Lily had _ever_ seen. And James was looking wistfully at Paul’s lion, as if wishing he’d thought of that. Lily thought this was probably unnecessary, because she’d seen Mary Berry’s face when he said _breadcycle_ and Lily didn’t think anyone had ever looked so delighted. Maybe it would’ve gone down even better if there were alcohol in it, but who knew? Lily thought the answer to that question was probably _anyone who has ever watched an episode of The Great British Bake Off_ , but who was she to make such grand, sweeping statements?

She was still making fairly rubbish jokes to herself when the timer went off, telling her to stop proving the bread and start cooking it. She’d just finished pressing buttons to make sure that the oven was doing what it was supposed to when a shadow fell over her.

“Do you want tea?” James asked. “I was about to go and get myself one, thought I’d offer.”

“Tea,” Lily said. “Would be _magnificent_.”

“D’you take sugar?”

“One,” Lily said. “And no milk, please.”

“That,” James said, levelling an accusatory spatula at her, “is bloody weird. But fine, I will bring you your heathen tea.”

“Cheers,” Lily said, and went back to her button pressing.

It felt like it took several millennia for the time to be up and the judges to be ready, which baffled Lily, because she still ended up finishing in a rush. She’d barely finished getting her corset in place when the time ran out. Sighing, she stepped back, and ran a hand through her fringe. In front of her, James was messing up his own hair, tension in the lines of his shoulders. He looked as if he was preparing to walk to the gallows when he picked up his breadcycle and walked it to the gingham alter. Lily couldn’t help but watch in concern, although she needn’t have worried. There was nothing but praise for the breadcycle, and the same for her bread dress. It was all very even, except Lily had done better in the technical, and next week, she was going to watch herself on TV with James Potter, and she hadn’t meant to say yes.

The world was a little strange like that, sometimes.

 

* * *

 

Sirius was lying on the sofa looking displeased. James wasn’t particularly concerned by this, as Sirius seemed to do very little else.

“Is it safe for me to come in?” Remus asked, from the doorway. “By which I mean, where is your monstrosity?”

“Valentina,” Sirius replied, putting a delicate stress on the word, “is sleeping.”

“How do you know?” Peter asked, not unreasonably. “She never actually seems to be anywhere in the house apart from when she’s with you. How do you know where she is when she isn’t with you?”

“I’m a man of many talents,” Sirius said, shrugging. “I promise, she’s asleep, she won’t bother anyone.”

“Good,” Remus said. “Budge up, then.”

With some complaining, Sirius did so, and Remus settled into the vacated space. James and Peter took the chairs. It was eight o’clock on the dot.

“You know,” Sirius said, shooting James a filthy look. “I was really looking forward to meeting Evans.”

“Think how much more excited you’ll be for it in a week, then,” James replied, pleasantly. “Now shut up, will you? I’m trying to watch the TV.”

  

* * *

 

 

**Lily Evans** @gingey

Genuinely have no idea how I managed to miss Alvin making that much bread?? #GBBO

 

**the prettiest boy** @padfoot

@prongs keeps rewinding and pausing on Mary Berry’s face when she reacts to the word breadcycle #GBBO

 

**Lily Evans** @gingey

@padfoot can you blame him?? I was tempted to myself.

 

**the prettiest boy** @padfoot

@gingey I’m not talking to you. you declined my lovely offer of hospitality

 

**Lily Evans** @gingey

@padfoot I did not decline, I postponed until next week, as I am currently helping my mum paint her toenails which is Serious Business

 

**the prettiest boy** @padfoot

@gingey I suppose I can forgive you if you bring a bottle of wine or smth to dinner

 

**Lily Evans** @gingey

@padfoot I can totally do that

 

**the mastermind**  @prongs

@gingey DON’T IT’S A TRAP HE’S A WINE SNOB

 

**Lily Evans** @gingey

@prongs I’ve got this handled, Potter.

 

**Severus Snape**  @torturedgenius

@prongs @padfoot Why Don’t you just leave @gingey alone?

 

**the prettiest boy** @padfoot

@torturedgenius I wasn’t aware that strangers on the internet were allowed to police my interactions with my friends.

 

**the mastermind**  @prongs

@torturedgenius okay there Snivellus, why don’t you just step away and leave this to us? Everyone’s a consenting adult here.

 

**all my friends are idiots** @moony

@padfoot @prongs get off your phones and watch the damn telly

 

**the prettiest boy** @padfoot

@moony yes mother

 

**Severus Snape**  @torturedgenius

@padfoot That’s it, run along like a good dog.

 

**the prettiest boy** @padfoot

@tortured genius I’ll come back for you, Snivellus.

 


	4. Desserts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm mildly apologetic that this took longer than past updates to write, but it is 4000 words, which is longer than the other chapters so, there we are. I'd also like to thank everyone who's reviewed or sent me messages of support and/or encouragement. They really make writing this worth it.  
> Also, fair warning, there is a link. It goes to my tumblr, not to a news article. It's just for the aesthetic.

“Have you seen this?” Sirius demanded, brandishing something that looked like a newspaper.

“Until you hold it still I won’t know, will I?” James rolled his eyes. “What is it?”

“It’s today’s Daily Mail. I was getting it for Val’s litter tray, when I happened to notice what was on page eight,” Sirius appeared to be hovering somewhere between delight and outrage at whatever he’d found.

“What’s that, then?” James asked, with the air of a parent indulging a child.

“The headline says, and I quote, _Make cake not war._ Which, for the record, makes no sense. The article is about you and Evans. The long and the short of it is that you shouldn’t describe yourself as a consenting adult on the internet because the Mail will think you’re fucking Lily.”

“Hang on a minute,” James blinked a few times. When this failed to clarify the situation, he gestured at Sirius to continue.

“They’ve done some research,” Sirius said, his expression a mix of glee and horror. “They know that you have Peter as a common friend. They’re supposing that the two of you have been having regular sex ever since Pete and Evans met. They’re wondering if your romance is strong enough to survive being tested by the competition, also if Snivellus is her ex boyfriend, so they’ve seen the prom photo too, and I think they’re asking if anybody knows the odds of two contestants being romantically involved and how likely it is that the showrunners didn’t know.”

“Sons of bitches,” James groaned.

 

* * *

  

**Lily Evans** @gingey

I’ve literally never been angrier in my life [dailym.ai/4kg6v9](http://alrightblack.tumblr.com)

 

* * *

 

 

It was raining. If James had believed in such things, he’d have said that was a bad omen. Anyway, there were more tangible things to worry about than the weather.

“James, Lily,” it was Sue who beckoned them to one side. She looked as if she was trying not to laugh. “Orders from on high, I’m afraid. We need you two to move stations. We’re bringing you to the middle, and putting you opposite one another, not in front and behind.”

“Is this because of that stupid article?” Lily demanded. James could feel the anger radiating off her.

“It wasn’t my decision,” Sue raised her hands in a placating gesture. “And I think it’s stupid, too. But someone’s made the decision and we have to follow it.”

“Okay,” James smiled as best as he was able. “Thanks for letting us know.”

 

It felt weird. It felt really, really weird. James had gotten used to being tucked away in the back corner with Lily, it’d started to feel nice and reassuring, like he had his own little spot. He blamed the sudden change of position for Lily’s trouble with the crème brûlée. James wasn’t quite sure why he was making excuses for Lily when he wasn’t making them for himself, but he decided that he’d analyse it at a later date. Crème brûlée was one of James’ parent’s favourite desserts. He did his best to be cheerful.

“Might put in some rhubarb crisps,” James confided, to the cameraman, “but they don’t always come up so well, so I might not. Don’t tell anyone.” The cameraman chuckled. Across the aisle, Lily cracked a smile.

James’ stomach did something undignified and squiggly.

He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but the cameras were cheerfully following him around all morning. Perhaps, he mused, it was what one got when one was half of the scandal of the week. He ended up explaining the purpose of a Bain Marie in cooking the brûlées. Lily, he noticed, was largely left alone.

Maybe it was a little stalkerish, but he watched as Lily talked Paul and Mary through her bake six times. She kept stumbling over her words, getting distracted or, on one particularly memorable occasion, breaking off into a torrent of swearwords. James wanted to bring her a cup of tea, but he didn’t think it would help much. She might not have been angry with him, but he was the reason for her anger. And he wasn’t even sure that she _wasn’t_ angry with him. He would probably have to check that.

He was so distracted by trying to be subtle about keeping an eye on Lily that when the two minute warning sounded, he couldn’t quite believe where the time had gone.

“Two minutes?” he said, “don’t be ridiculous.”

He’d baked well considering that he hadn’t been paying anywhere as much attention to what he was doing as he ought to have been. He couldn’t help but notice that Lily didn’t do quite so well, although at least she didn’t need multiple takes for her feedback. James tried to stay collected when Sue walked off with all of his brûlées.

The camera crew accosted him outside the tent when he was on his way to lunch, and demanded his thoughts on the outcome of the bake.

“They really liked the flavours, and the custard was set just right,” he said. “So, yeah, I’m really pleased. But also not having sex with Lily Evans.”

“Mate,” the cameraman said, with a grin. “Try that again without the sarcasm, yeah?”

James sighed, and repeated himself, leaving off the part about Lily.

 

She’d saved him a seat at lunch. James was sort of grateful for that, and sort of surprised.

“If I wasn’t so invested in beating you,” she said, “I’d quit now. I didn’t sign up to have my private life looked into.”

“It’s disgusting,” James agreed. “It’s vile and pathetic and I am not against suing them. The Daily fucking Mail doesn’t have the right to pry into our lives. Nobody’s said anything to me, except, maybe _good job_ which is equally disgusting, but then nobody holds men to ridiculous standards.”

“I’d planned to have that rant,” Lily almost smiled. “But it seems that you understand the situation.”

“I do,” James nodded. “Completely. And I totally understand if you don’t want to come over on Wednesday.”

“Fuck that,” Lily snorted. “I’m not letting anybody else change my plans, thanks. Particularly not vicious arseholes that I’ve never met.”

“I’m starting to think that introducing you to Sirius might be a bad idea,” James said. “You might decide to chain yourself to railings together.”

“There are worse plans to make with someone,” Lily smiled. “So what time should I be there?”

“Oh, I dunno. About seven?” James shrugged. “Someone will be there from six onwards for certain, so you can pretty much show up when you like after that.”

“Someone?” Lily raised her eyebrows.

“Not Sirius, he works until seven and isn’t back until half past,” James clarified. “But Remus and Peter practically live with us. I’m not a hundred percent certain that they don’t, as a matter of fact, and they normally turn up around half past five on a Wednesday. And that’s the day I visit my mum, so I’m always hazy on when I’ll be back.”

“And how do your housemates feel about this?” Lily asked, frowning.

“What housemates?” James blinked, confused. “It’s our house, they’re our mates. They have keys.”

“You have a house,” Lily said. “You and Sirius?”

“Yes,” James nodded. “Technically, the house belongs to Sirius. He inherited it from his uncle. But I live with him because it’s handier for my uni than Chiswick is, and we come home often enough to satisfy mum.”

“Are…” Lily hesitated, as if considering how to continue. “Are you and Sirius a couple?”

James burst out laughing. “No, we’re just mates. We’ve been best mates since we were eleven, though, so it’s a fairly common mistake. We have pet names and we cuddle a lot. Our boundaries are very fuzzy.”

“That’s sort of sweet,” Lily allowed. “Bit weird that a nineteen year old inherited a house but we’ll cover that another day.”

“Better had,” James nodded. “Sirius’ family stuff is not my story to tell. He’ll bring it up with you when he decides you can stick around.”

“And is it his seal of approval that matters?” Lily asked, her eyebrows shooting up again.

“Not only his,” James shrugged. “But his is hardest to get.”

“I see,” Lily said, and not for the first time, James was left wondering if his friendship group did things a little weirdly.

 

James had never been a fan of meringue. After the technical challenge, he wasn’t sure he’d ever want to make it again. He would’ve screwed up the instructions in frustration, but since he’d done that with the arlettes recipe, they’d taken to laminating them. The camera crew had taken to hovering around Lily for a change, which at the very least allowed James to focus. They came over to film him talking to himself a few times, and seemed to enjoy the fact that he was kneeling down to make sure that his rings were level. His shaking hands as he positioned his fondant violets would, he imagined, also be met with some delight. James decided to ignore it, and focus as best he could.

It did not pay off. His meringue was too soft, or too hard, or… something. He honestly didn’t know. What he did know was that he came fifth, and Lily came third, and he would have been much more annoyed about this if he and Lily hadn’t been told off for trying to sit next to each other.

They’d brought their stools up, and sat down. It hadn’t even been a deliberate thing, the two of them sitting together. It was just how it turned out. But the moment James’ arse had touched his seat the director, who James was reasonably sure was named Andy, had rushed over.

“No,” he said. “You two can’t sit together.”

James had opened his mouth, with every intention of telling Andy to fuck off, but Lily had beaten him to it.

“Is this because of that ridiculous article?” Lily raised her eyebrows. “We’re not a couple.”

“That really isn’t the point. Ugne will sit between you. This isn’t a discussion, it’s an instruction. Lily, swap seats.”

And, with that, he left. James was fairly impressed by Lily’s use of compound swearwords. He would’ve joined in, but he honestly didn’t think he knew any insults good enough to add to the ones Lily was rattling off.

 

 

James woke up in a bad mood, which was unusual for him. He couldn’t even place the reason for it, but it didn’t matter so much. He’d brought his running shoes and shorts and a spare t-shirt, and they didn’t leave the hotel until nine. There was time to work off some of the bad mood.

It was his favourite running weather. It wasn’t sunny, it was too early for that, and the nighttime chill was just starting to fade away into what promised to be a nice day. The cool air was nice; it stopped him getting too gross and sweaty. Or, at least, it would have if he hadn’t kept going for almost two hours. It was eight o’clock when he made his way back to his room to shower and change.

“You look disgusting, Potter,” Lily said, rather cheerfully.

“And a good morning to you too, Evans,” James smiled. “I have been running.”

“Well, there goes any affection I had for you,” she sighed theatrically and shook her head. “I don’t know if I can look past this.”

“I’m sure I’ll live,” James said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a shower. I don’t think they’ll let me in the tent like this.”

 

Sunday the twenty-third of August was the day James Potter decided that he never wanted to see another cheesecake for as long as he lived. He certainly didn’t think he’d ever eat one again. There was something about making three different flavours of cheesecake and then setting them up in a pretty tier with sugarwork hazelnuts for decoration that had the ability to put a bloke off the stuff. Positioning the tiers would be easy; James had made wedding cakes before, the most recent of which had been a five-tier extravaganza for Frank and Alice Longbottom, who had confounded everyone by getting married right out of sixth form.

It was this experience in stacking cakes into precarious layers that led James to declare himself qualified to help Sandy assemble her own cheesecakey showstopper. It mostly involved sticking straws into the surface of the cake, which was not at all what one did with wedding cakes. The whole point there was that you didn’t damage your icing. But with this, you were allowed to stick things in the top of the cheesecakes because otherwise, how else would you get them right without special stands?

James discussed all of that with Sandy while their cheesecakes were baking. He was so busy being distracted by her, and by the million and one things he needed to do, that he barely noticed what Lily was doing, on the other side of the tent. If he’d been watching, he might have seen her steadily increasing levels of panic. As it was, he didn’t realise that something was wrong until Lily brought her bake up to be judged.

James’ own remarks were good. Paul, for once, had nothing but praise. His sugarwork was deemed _beautiful_ and his flavours _spot on_. He walked away on a cloud. The only thing that ruined his mood was the knowledge that he’d probably hadn’t done quite well enough in the technical to win Star Baker. He was feeling great up until he heard what Paul and Mary were saying to Lily.

_Didn’t use the time well._

James caught sight of Lily’s expression as she walked back to her station. She looked as if she were about to cry. He was only half right; Lily did cry, but not until the judges had left the tent. Theoretically, this was the lunch break of the day, but it never worked out like that. Everyone was too nervous to eat, or too excited, or too sympathetic.

James was afflicted with a strong case of the latter. The moment they were released, he made a beeline for Lily, took her by the arm, and steered her gently outside. The fact that she didn’t protest this only made James more worried, which he hadn’t actually realised was possible.

“Evans, Evans, hey. You okay there?” he sat her down on a bench beneath a tree, and flopped down next to her. “You look sort… not okay.”

“I- I…” Lily shook her head, and then burst into tears. This was such a profoundly un-Lilylike thing for her to do that James was momentarily taken aback. It took a few seconds for him to recover himself, and to pull Lily into a tight hug.

“Hey, okay, you’re crying. I’m not- I have no idea what to do but, um…” James bit his lip. “I’m here, okay? Whatever you need, I’m here.”

“It’s- I’m fine,” Lily said, still crying.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive,” James said, “but you’re currently sobbing on my shoulder and that doesn’t really imply that you’re _fine_ , you know?”

“I’m just stressed,” Lily pulled away, took a few deep breaths, and wiped her eyes. It didn’t do much. “It’s- I cry when I’m really stressed out. It’s stupid and annoying but you don’t need to worry. It’s just the article and then I did really badly this week and I just-” Lily cut herself off with a sigh. “I am ready for the week to be over.”

“Well,” James said, producing a handkerchief from somewhere about his person, “the good news is that you’ve only got about ten hours of the week left. The even better news is that I’m willing to bet everything I own on you staying in.”

“Huh,” Lily said, blowing her nose. “Who am I to argue with a bloke who carries a handkerchief?”

“Don’t sass the handkerchief,” James told her. “Now, come on. Lets get a cup of tea in you, and then we can go and see just how right I was when someone else leaves today.”

“It’d almost be worth it to prove you wrong, Potter,” Lily said, with a small smile.

James was not wrong. It was Sandy who left, which hadn’t quite been what he was expecting. He wasn’t particularly sure who he’d expected to be hugging and saying goodbye to, only that he was positive it wasn’t going to be Lily. It couldn’t be Lily, because James could not possibly imagine a scenario where one or the other of them did not win. It was a thought that worried him more than he cared to admit.

  

* * *

 

 

Lily arrived at the Black-Potter household at roughly twelve minutes past seven. A rather tall, skinny, curly haired boy she’d never met before answered the door.

“Hey,” she said, “You must be Remus.”

“Must I?” he raised his eyebrows. “Damn, I always wanted to be Paul McCartney.”

“Moony!” James’ voice came from somewhere inside. “Stop being a sarcastic shit and let her in.”

“That erases half of my personality,” Remus muttered, stepping back to allow Lily inside. “Welcome to our humble home. The home is humble, not the inhabitants.”

“Oh,” Lily grinned. “I know. I have met James.”

“I heard that!” came James’ voice.

 

There was a brief flurry of activity in the house when Lily arrived. James hugged her, and then vanished into the kitchen to make tea. While he was dong this, Remus gave Lily a fairly condensed version of how the four of them had become friends. It seemed to boil down to “shared a room for seven years” which she supposed would do it. Peter chipped in occasionally, and James returned with mugs for all of them.

“Sirius is late,” Remus noted, with a glance at his battered wristwatch.

“Ten seconds,” James said, with confidence that astounded Lily. “He’ll be through the door in ten seconds.”

Peter began a dutiful countdown. Remus adopted an air of scepticism, and James one of smug assurance. Lily watched, and then listened, in consternation as Pete’s _ten_ was cut off by the front door crashing open.

“I am returned!” a voice, which Lily could only assume was Sirius’, echoed down the hallway. “Sorry I’m late! There was a lot to clean up at the garage.”

The voice, and, presumably, Sirius, got closer as he spoke, until he was leaning with expert nonchalance against the doorframe.

“Ah,” he said, “You must be Evans.”

His voice, Lily thought, did not match the rest of him. He spoke like the private school boys at university, and carried himself in the same way. But his hair was long, drawn up into a rather messy bun, and his hands, overalls were streaked with grease and engine oil. There was even a smudge on one of his cheekbones.

“I suppose I must be,” Lily said. “You’re the one with the cat.”

“I’m really not used to coming second to my cat,” Sirius said, “And yet, I think you’re here for her.”

“Her,” Lily said, “and because I’ve not seen Peter in ages.”

“Rude,” James said. “Anyway, you’re out of luck. The monster hasn’t been her all day.”

“Well, no,” Sirius rolled his eyes. “Of course she hasn’t.”

“I really refuse to believe that you could have knows where she was all day,” Remus rolled his eyes.

“But, of course I knew.” Sirius smirked, and unzipped the top half of his overalls. Lily was relieved to see that he was wearing a t-shirt underneath. “I had her here with me,” Sirius reached into an inner pocket and withdrew a small ball of fur, the size of a kitten.

 “This,” Sirius announced, “Is Valentina. She’s very fragile. She lives in my clothes. She has dwarfism. This is as big as she’ll ever get. The vet says she needs the extra warmth so I keep her with me.”

Lily made a strangled noise, which she fervently hoped expressed how cute she found the cat.

“You’re…” Remus trailed off, fixing Sirius with a look that seemed to express rather more than friendly affection. “You’re an enormous sap.”

“Yes,” Sirius nodded. “Evans. Hold out your hands. We’re going to try Val on you.”

“Sirius,” James said, in a warning tone. “If that cat scratches Lily up, I’m holding you responsible.”

“Stop being such a worrywart,” Sirius rolled his eyes. “Val’s asleep, and if she freaks when she wakes up, I’ll be back just as soon as I’ve cleaned myself up.” And, with that, he deposited the tiny, lightly snoring cat, in Lily’s outstretched hands. She made the strangled noise again.

“Good luck,” Sirius said, and sauntered off.

“Ten minutes till bake off,” Peter said.

 

By the time Sirius returned, wearing yet another outfit that didn’t match his clipped, upper-class tones, Valentina was awake. She was blinking sleepily at Lily, and seemed to be considering whether or not to claw her face off.

“Okay,” Sirius sat down next to Lily. “She hasn’t attacked yet so we’ll quit while we’re ahead.”

Reluctantly, Lily tipped Valentina into Sirius’ lap. She would’ve made a protest, but James and Remus were bringing in plates of something that was either risotto or paella, and the bake off intro music had begun. It was time.

 

Lily had been worried that James and his mates might’ve been the kind of people who didn’t talk when they were watching the telly. This fear was put to rest the moment Sirius had finished inhaling his food, which seemed to take less than five minutes.

“Prongs,” he said, “is a cagey bastard and refuses to tell his who gets Star Baker and who gets kicked off. Any insight for us?”

“House rules, Padfoot,” James grinned. “No spoilers.”

“And who I am to disobey the house rules?” Lily asked, grinning. “Anyway, it’ll ruin it.”

“We already know what all the bakes are,” Remus pointed out, not unreasonably. “Well, not the technical, but we know everything else.”

“James uses us as lab rats,” Peter grinned. “I have eaten so many crème brûlées.”

“I don’t think I can ever see one again without getting flashbacks,” Remus affected a shudder. “And I really, really hope you didn’t separate your eggs like that for the ones we ate, Potter.”

This sentence confused Lily, until she looked at the screen. Sirius had dutifully paused it on a shot of James separating his egg yolks with his hands.

“James, that’s disgusting,” Peter fixed James with a horrified expression.

“It’s _practical_!”

“It’s unhygienic! Have I been eating your hand eggs, James? Have I? I don’t want to have been eating hand eggs.”

“Fight me, Pettigrew!”

“It’s only eggs,” Lily pointed out.

“My God,” Sirius raised his eyebrows. “We finally have a voice of reason.”

Lily didn’t think she was a very effective voice of reason, though, because when it came to a shot of James sitting on the floor to sprinkle sugar on top of his brûlées, it was she who lead the mockery. It came back to haunt her, though, at the shot of her forgetting which workstation she was meant to be using.

“Okay, okay,” Lily raised her hands in surrender, laughing. “Although, in fairness, I am used to being at the back of the tent.” There was general acceptance of this defence, and they lapsed back into silence until…

“Oooh,” Sirius had winced at the sight of Lily’s liquid brûlées. “Oh, Evans, that’s terribly unfortunate.”

“Not as bad as Sandy’s,” it was, to Lily’s surprise, Remus who leaped to her defence. “It’s gotta be her out this week.”

“Nah,” Peter shook her head. “She’s gonna win.”

“I miss the twitter speculation,” Sirius heaved a sigh.

“Oh no,” James shook his head. “No twitter this week. It is _banned_.”

Sirius looked like he was about to protest, but a look from Remus silenced him. They sat, in relative quiet until the on-screen version of Lily spoke.

“This,” she said, “is the most feminine form of plastering you could imagine.”

Sirius gave a disappointed huff. “Really, Evans? You baking gender rolls after this? And to think, I wanted you to win.”

“It’s feminine,” Lily said, “but that doesn’t make it bad. It requires just as much skill as the masculine stereotype plastering. It was an observation, not a criticism of the action.”

“Hmm,” Sirius raised an eyebrow, but did not protest any further.

As Lily readjusted herself on the sofa, it occurred to her that these were four people she could quite happily spend the rest of her life with.


	5. Alternative Ingredients

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray, an update! This one was a little quicker coming, probably because it's about 2000 words shorter than the last chapter. I made myself laugh a lot writing this chapter, so I hope someone else finds it funny too. Do please let me know if that's you.

James and Lily were allowed back at their normal stations for alternative ingredients week. Lily counted this as a personal victory. She’d been out of sorts the week before, and the pace change hadn’t helped her. She was hoping for better luck this week.

The problem with that, of course, was that alternative ingredients week was proving to be something of a bitch.

“I’m a firm believer in the all in one method,” Lily said, “but in this one there’s just too may variables that aren’t your standard eggs, butter and sugar.” The fact that it was probably not the best plan didn’t stop Lily giving up on sieving, chucking everything in the bowl and having at it with an electric mixer. Life was just too short.

On the station in front of her, James appeared to be planning to inject things again. Lily resented that, in a friendly sort of a way. She was going to be a nurse, she should have thought of that. But no, no, the sports coach had done it twice now.

“Careful,” Lily said, once the judges had gone. “The Daily Mail will accuse you of being a drug addict with all those injections if you don’t watch out.”

“Then,” James replied, “then I _will_ sue them.”

“I’m still tempted,” Lily sighed. “But they seem to have dropped it now, so I don’t think it’s worth the energy.”

“Not when we have sugar free, but certainly not stress free, cakes to be baking.” James grinned. “Although you’re making madeleines too, so that’s a nice extra level of stress, hmm?”

“Well,” Lily shrugged. “Ian’s pissing me off. I want to win this thing. Got to pull out all of the stops.”

She didn’t catch James’ reply, though, because it had just come to her attention that she should be watching her cakes cooking. She ducked down, settling herself on the floor to watch.

Lily was busying herself making a bramley apple compote when she heard James speak again.

“It’s fifty percent grapefruit juice,” he told the camera, “fifty percent blood orange, and then some honey as well.” James then appeared to consider this statement. “So it’s not really fifty percent of the other things, is it?” another pause, and then. “Ahhh, _maths.”_

Lily stifled a giggle.

 

 James got his feedback before Lily, and in fact, before anybody else. There no longer seemed to be any rhyme or reason to the order of the judging, which only made things more terrifying. Despite herself, Lily couldn’t help but be happy for him when he received nothing but praise. She still wanted to beat him, of course she did. She wanted to win this thing, but perhaps she no longer wanted to beat James Potter into the dust on her way to victory. Lily couldn’t even bring herself to be bitter when she hadn’t done as well as she might have hoped. It’d been a stupid mistake, and her own fault. She couldn’t begrudge James his success, but damn, if that didn’t make her crazy. It was, she decided, time to revert to plan a, which largely involved destroying James Potter.

 

Lunch, Lily decided, was the perfect time for psychological warfare.

“Good job,” she said to James, dropping into the seat opposite. “I’d try the cake but grapefruit is not my cup of tea.”

James grinned. “I hate to break it to you, Evans, but if you’re putting grapefruit in tea, you might be doing tea wrong.”

“Hilarious,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “Really very funny.”

“I thought so,” James agreed. “So, Sirius has commanded me to ask if you’re coming over again this week?”

“Oh?” Lily arched one eyebrow. “And how does his boyfriend feel about this sudden interest in my presence in your home?”

James dropped his fork with a satisfying clatter. “His what?” he asked, gaping at her.

“His boyfriend,” Lily repeated, using every ounce of self-control that she possessed to stay composed.

“Sirius isn’t my boyfriend,” James rolled his eyes. “I told you that.”

“I’m not saying he’s your boyfriend,” Lily examined her nails as she spoke. “I’m saying that he’s Remus’.”

Lily had never previously seen anybody look gobsmacked. She’d long ago reached the conclusion that it was the sort of thing people only were in books. Lily allowed herself a few seconds to revise this opinion, and then smiled.

“You didn’t know?” she asked, perfectly aware of the fact that James had most certainly not known.

“I- I- no,” James spluttered. “No. I didn’t know. I knew that they both like guys but I didn’t know…”

“Well, I might be wrong,” Lily said this in tones that implied that she wasn’t even entertaining the possibility. “You should probably talk to them about it first.”

“I- yeah. Yeah.” James stood up, rather more suddenly than Lily had expected. “I have to make a phone call. Please excuse me.”

And then he was gone.

 

Lily almost felt sorry for James in the technical. She knew that a lot of his distraction was her own fault for the bombshell about Sirius and Remus, and she was trying very hard not to think about the fact that they might not be very pleased with her for telling James. Still, she reasoned that they’d have been subtler if they didn’t want James to know at all.

As much as she tried to bury herself in her own bake, Lily kept finding herself distracted by James’ near ceaseless deluge of sarcasm. She supposed that was probably karma.

It started with him frowning at the instructions and demanding _what the hell?_ of nobody in particular. Lily couldn’t help but grin when he described the mystery ingredient that she’d been complaining about only a few seconds earlier as _rank._

Lily put her dough in the oven to prove, settled down on her stool, and tried very hard not to be charmed by James Potter. It wasn’t working so well. She watched as he complained, in his smiling, good-natured way. A part of her that she’d decided to firmly ignore for the afternoon wanted to see if James was alright, to bring him a cup of tea and some encouragement. She didn’t, though, because if either of them could afford to do badly, it was James. Lily had her subpar morning bake to make up for.

Her resolution held until judgment time. She and James sat together, and although there were some raised eyebrows, nobody said a word. She was the first up for judgement, and, if she was being honest, she probably would’ve come somewhere near the bottom of the ranking if only everyone else hadn’t done so badly. Although they were meant to sit with their hands in their laps, for the cameras, James took brief advantage of the focus on Paul and Mary to reach over, grab her hand, and shuffle around a bit to hide it.

“It’ll be fine, Evans,” he whispered. “Can’t’ve done worse than me.”

“Psh,” Lily whispered back. “You’re a bread genius.”

As it turned out, they were both wrong. Alvin had done worse than James, who seemed to find the whole thing hilarious, but he still only came seventh. To Lily’s bemusement, James seemed to find the whole thing hilarious.

 

Lily was minding her business and enjoying her breakfast when James sat down opposite her.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, by way of a greeting.

“You know, most people start conversations with _hello_ ,” Lily rolled her eyes.

“I’m mixing things up,” James poured himself a glass of orange juice. “You coming over on Wednesday or no? Sirius says that you owe him and Remus a fiver each, by the way. They had a bet on how long it’d take me to notice, but you voided it by telling me.”

Lily took a few moments to process all of this. “Tell him I’m not giving them money, but I’ll bring them cupcakes when I come over.”

James grinned. “That seems fair.”

“I’m in it for your mates,” she said, brandishing a slice of toast at him. “You’re still competition.”

“Naturally,” James said, with a smile.

 

The showstopper did not go to plan, but, then it never had, so it wasn’t much of a surprise. Lily was making a mould for her sponge, and then filling that with ice cream. James was rolling his sponge, the same way everyone else seemed to be. That worried her. Perhaps she ought to have rolled it, too?

Ah, well. Deep breaths. She’d not been the worst in the signature, and she’d been third in the technical. She could just about afford a bad day, so long as she pulled it back next week. Deep breaths. No need to panic.

And at least she wasn’t going for a tropical theme. James, talking to the camera, seemed to be regretting that.

“It’s a tropical ice cream roll,” he was saying. “Which I thought was original, but I’ve looked around, and maybe it’s not as original.”

Lily failed to stifle a giggle that turned into a laugh when James started talking about his baby bunting.

“You have a problem with my decorations, Evans?” James asked, clearly trying not to grin.

“I’m enjoying the mental image of you making tiny flags on the train,” Lily admitted. “I wonder how many people pegged you as a teen father?”

“I was really trying not to think about that,” James smiled, shaking his head.

Lily laughed, although she didn’t know what was funny, and they went back to their bakes. She would’ve liked to talk to James a little more, if she was being honest. But there was a bake to do, and she had a sponge to slice in half for extra-thinness and boy, if that didn’t turn out to be a mistake.

By the time Lily left the tent for lunch, she had reached the conclusion that the things Mary and Paul had said about her bake would haunt her for years.

“I’m just tying to find the sponge,” Mary had said, jabbing at the cake with her fork.

“The sponge is so thin it’s struggling to keep control of the ice cream inside,” Paul added. There was no praise for flavours, or for the look. It was a far cry from James’, which Mary had clearly adored. _If I’d baked that, I would have been very proud_ , she’d said.

Lily walked to lunch with James anyway, and they sat together, and talked about nothing in particular, and as much as she wanted to, Lily didn’t see it as a competition between the two of them any more. James was near the top. She was near the bottom. She had work to do before he could be her rival again.

In the end, it was only luck that someone else had had a worse weekend than her. Ugne had to leave, and Nadiya, who Lily could wholeheartedly say deserved it, was Star Baker.

  

* * *

 

 

James had Lily’s tea waiting for her when she arrived. He’d put it in a thermos up so it wouldn’t be cold, and then tipped it into a proper mug.

“That,” Remus had said, with one raised eyebrow, “is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen you do, Prongs.”

“Shut up,” James told him.

Remus obliged, and if Lily found anything odd about the fact that her tea was made before she arrived, she didn’t say.

“So,” she settled herself onto the sofa, as if it were her home too. “Your nicknames,” she said. “Please explain.”

“Oh no,” James said, and buried his face in his hands.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Peter said, with a delighted grin.

“Shall we start with Prongs?” Remus looked absolutely delighted by this turn of events, James could see his grin through the gaps in his fingers.

“Yes,” Lily said, “yes we absolutely should.”

“Hey, James, what are the pointy bits on forks called?” Remus asked, which seemed to baffle Lily. James, on the other hand, groaned.

“I still maintain that _tines_ is not a word,” he protested. “Prongs is a perfectly good word for them.”

“What do male deer have on their heads, James?” Peter asked.

“Goddamnit,” James said. “Okay, okay, I admit that I should have known the word antlers.”

“His nickname is just taking the piss out of him?” Lily seemed rather happier than James would’ve liked about this fact.

“All of them are, pretty much,” Remus grimaced. “So, I’m Moony because… well… Sirius thought it’d be really funny to dare me to sneak into our head of house’s office, drop trou, and shove my arse out the window.”

“In fairness,” James said, “it _was_ funny.”

At that moment, Sirius arrived. As he had the week before, he withdrew Val from his overalls, and placed her in Lily’s care while he went to change. With Lily distracted by the presence of a cat, the conversation was temporarily halted. It wasn’t until Sirius returned, and insinuated himself into an almost non-existent gap between Lily and Remus on the sofa that Lily seemed to remember that she’d been asking questions.

“So,” she raised an eyebrow. “Why Wormtail?”

“I had a very unfortunate haircut,” Peter grimaced.  “One of those stupid tiny ponytails.”

“I cut it off in his sleep,” Sirius said, in the tones of someone who was reminiscing fondly about a dear friend.

“It was probably for the best,” Peter acknowledged.

“He didn’t think so at the time,” Remus grinned. “They were fighting for weeks.”

“That sounds fair,” Lily said. “I’d kill someone for cutting my hair without my permission.”

“I admit, it was not my finest moment,” Sirius shrugged. “We’ve moved past it.”

“So, why’re you called Padfoot? Where the hell does that come from?” Lily raised her eyebrows.

Sirius sighed, and did his very best heartbroken expression. “It was so tragic, Evans. I was the last one lest without a nickname. The only one, can you imagine? I felt so neglected. So James and Remus got out their dictionaries and stuck pins in them, and the words they got were _pad_ and _foot_ , and so I was named.”

Lily laughed, and gave Sirius an affectionate pat on the head. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, fondly.

“You’re mates with us, ginger, so what does that say about you?”

And James was struck with the sudden realisation that Lily _was_ mates with them. She filled a space in their group that he hadn’t even know was there until it was gone. Which meant that all that was left was to be sure that when it was all done, she’d still be there.

 

* * *

 

**Lily Evans** @gingey

I’m going to miss Ugne so much it’s such a shame to see her go #GBBO

 

**the mastermind** @prongs

really bad luck for Ugne this weekend tbh. keep baking love!! #GBBO

 

**Severus Snape**  @torturedgenius

It’s the Great British Bake Off, the contestants should be British. Ugne wasn’t. Good riddance. #GBBO

 

**the prettiest boy** @padfoot

@torturedgenius how many bees do you have up your racist arse? Asking for a friend.

 

**Severus Snape**  @torturedgenius

@padfoot It’s not racism it’s the truth.

 

**the mastermind**  @prongs

@torturedgenius @padfoot it sure looks like racism from where I’m sat.

 

**Severus Snape**  @torturedgenius

@the mastermind Did I ask your opinion?

 

**the mastermind**  @prongs

@torturedgenius no, but scrawny white boys get my callouts without asking. you’re welcome.

 

**Lily Evans** @gingey

@torturedgenius in astonishing news, not all British citizens were born here!! Are you honestly saying that you’re not being racist here?

 

**Severus Snape**  @torturedgenius

@gingey Oh, of course, take his side. You would, since you’re his slut now.

 

**the mastermind**  @prongs

@torturedgenius you apologise to Lily right fucking now or I swear to god I’ll make you pay for it.

 

**Lily Evans** @gingey

@prongs I don’t need you to stand up for me, Potter.

 

**Lily Evans** @gingey

@torturedgenius fuck yourself, Snivellus. God knows nobody else will.


	6. Pastry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Note Regarding Updates: For those of you who remain unaware, this fic is based off the events happening in a cooking show called The Great British Bake Off. It airs on Wednesdays at 8pm. I have replaced two of this year’s contestants with James and Lily for the purposes of this fic. The competition is ongoing. That means that I cannot even start to write a chapter until the episode with the corresponding challenges has aired. I can’t write about things that haven’t happened yet. Please, please understand that. I am currently writing 2-4.5k chapters in three to four days. That is not easy. I have other things happening in my life, other things that take up my time. Please understand that, too. I am writing as fast as I can, but every time I get a message asking about the next update, all it does is stress me out. I’m doing my best on a very tight schedule. Please don't send me messages asking when the next update will be I am working as fast as I can, I promise. 
> 
> On another note, thank you so much for all your support and comments. I never expected so many people to enjoy this fic, and I'm both flattered and delighted by all the support and interest I've received. I appreciate every review and every comment, it means a lot to have so many people saying such lovely things.

Seconds after James hit send on the tweet, Lily was typing furiously away on her own phone. The moment she was done, she turned to him, fury in every line of her face.

“Fucking hell,” she spat. “What do you think you’re doing? Don’t you know how it’s going to _look_?!”

“I wasn’t going to just let him call you names!” James protested.

“It’s not about what you will or won’t allow, you moron,” Lily shook her head, jumping to her feet. “Christ, I can take care of myself.”

And with that, she stormed out of the house, snatching up her bag and coat on the way out.

Heartbeats passed, and then James leaped to his feet and ran out after her, but she was faster than he was, and he didn’t know what direction she’d gone in. He shouldn’t have stopped to get his keys, James realised, as he scanned the crowds in the tube station for Lily’s red hair. It was fruitless. For all he knew, she hadn’t even come in here, or she might have been on the other platform. There was no way of knowing.

Dejected, miserable, and thoroughly confused, James walked back home, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He had absolutely no idea what he’d done to deserve that.

 

* * *

 

For the first time, James was dreading seeing Lily Evans. It’d been two days since he’d last seen her, two days since the last time. He still didn’t understand what he’d done wrong. He’d only been trying to help, been trying to make Snape leave her be.

She didn’t look at him as they walked into the tent. She didn’t so much as nod in his direction when everyone else was exchanging hugs and hellos. It hurt more than James thought it would. It made him angrier than he thought it would.

Fine, then. Fine. He’d ignore Lily Evans, it wasn’t as if he didn’t get on fine with Nadiya and Mat and pretty much everyone who wasn’t Paul (who was just a bit more intimidating than necessary) and Ian, who James thought was so far up his own arse that it was nearly impressive.

James busied himself with his frangipane tart, and blocked out all thoughts of Lily Evans standing just a few feet behind him. Ordinarily, he would have told her all about how he’d jinxed himself by saying that he wanted to be Star Baker. She’d have laughed, and told him that she’d get it before he did, and it would’ve been fun.

Only they seemed to have very suddenly stopped being friends. He wasn’t sure if he blamed himself or the new round of Daily Mail speculation about the two of them. The paper now had them in the midst of a lover’s tiff, which might’ve been funny if they weren’t right about Lily no longer being able to stand the sight of him.

He needed to stop thinking about it. It wasn’t going to help him any when it came to the bake, and the bake was what mattered. His lovely autumnal, almost Christmassy frangipane tart that Sirius was still asking for more of was what mattered.

Mel came over with Paul and Mary, which was nice. James did his best to smile and be the cheerful self that they expected while he talked to them. There was no sense in bring everyone else down, and if he was sulky, the Mail would only say that it was because of his half-imagined relationship troubles.

There were more important things to think about, most particularly the terror of the soggy bottom. The bakers, James noticed, split into factions, each eager to appease the raw shortcrust gods. Should they blind bake first to firm up the pastry and keep the frangipane in, at the risk of twice-baking your pastry and burning it? Or should they just eggwash, flirting with the prospect of Paul Hollywood’s knife getting stuck in their damp undersides? James decided that both was the best option, and was washing his pastry with an egg glaze when the camera came over.

“It’s just another line of defence against a soggy bottom,” he said, and he could already hear Sirius laughing.

James didn’t actually notice that the camera was there while he lamented the aesthetic of his tart. “Design is a bit of a strong word to be using,” he said, almost laughing to himself.

He was frankly amazed that he got it all done in time. But when the time ran out, there he was, sitting at his bench with everything all done.

Because of the random order in which feedback was given, Lily got hers first. James tried not to listen, tried not to care, but it was such a mix. Mary loved the bake, Paul hated it, and Lily just looked confused. James couldn’t really help grinning, and turning to smile at Lily. For half a heartbeat, she smiled back, and James felt a little surge of hope. But then her smile was gone, and he was left looking like an idiot. She turned away, completely ignoring him. He sighed, and went back to following Mary and Paul’s progress around the tent. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do.

“It is a bit chaotic on the top. It should be all fanning out beautifully symmetrically, but it’s not,” Paul said. James resisted the urge to remind him that he wasn’t an artist, he was a baker, and that there was no need to be so obsessive.

He was glad that he hadn’t, though, because after that it was nothing but praise. A _perfect_ bake, the frangipane cooked to _perfection_ , the flavours _beautiful_. A _classic frangipane_.

He was taken aside by the cameras on the way to lunch to give his thoughts on the challenge. This was a part of being on the bake off that James never really understood. Everyone watching had seen and heard what he had, he didn’t get why he had to repeat it for them. But he took his seat on the edge of the bridge anyway, and smiled.

“They said it was a bit of a mess on top,” James said, grinning. “Which is was, but then it’s me, so it was always going to be a bit of a mess,” he could almost hear Remus raising one eyebrow and saying _oh, just like the rest of your life then, mate?_ and laughing. James was starting to wonder if his friends weren’t following him around, invisible.

 

For the first time, James didn’t sit with Lily for lunch. Instead, he insinuated himself into the seat next to Nadiya.

            “Afternoon” he said, smiling.

“Hey,” she smiled back. “I’m so jealous, you did so well this morning.”

“Blind baking paid off,” he said, shrugging. “You were just unlucky really. And, you know, Mrs. Star Baker, you’ll pull it back.”

“No, no, no,” Nadiya shook her head. “No, don’t you’ll jinx it!”

“Sorry, sorry,” James held up his hands, laughing.

“Oh it’s fine, it’s fine,” there was a pause. “I heard about all that stuff in the papers with you and Lily, I’m so sorry, that must be so annoying.”

“That about sums it up,” James nodded. “It’s worse because it’s not even true, you know?”

“Yeah, I can understand that. I’d be so annoyed if it was me and they were saying things about me and my husband or my kids.”

“Mm, hey, what are your kids called?” James asked, rather desperate for the subject change. He’d hit upon a veritable goldmine of new conversational material, though, and the rest of the lunch break was passed with he and Nadiya happily chattering away about their families. James had rather less to say than Nadiya did, but that was mostly because he hadn’t had any children yet.

 

James wasn’t sure that he believed in flaounes. He was almost certain that Paul and Mary were just making up recipes now, which would explain why they were unspecific.

“It just feels wrong,” Lily was saying, behind him. “It just feels wrong.”

If he couldn’t talk to Lily, fine. He’d just natter away to the camera and anyone else who wanted to listen to him.

“They haven’t given any instructions on how to make the pastry,” James sighed. “Again.”

He had a moment or three of intense satisfaction when he was the only baker who knew what mahlab was. He told the camera as much, resisting the urge to grin. James liked knowing things that other people didn’t.

“What is this?” he directed the question at the cameraman, who clearly didn’t know the answer. That was okay, though, James didn’t know either. He was just having fun. “Is it like filo? Maybe it’s like filo. I don’t know.” He grinned, and went back to his pastry-based confusion.

“I’ve just realised,” Lily said behind him. “It’s pastry week, and not bread week.” James resisted the urge to laugh.

“I’ve been looking around constantly,” James confided to the cameraman, who was laughing at him. “Come on, help me cheat. I’m not getting any clues from this lot,” the cameraman doubled over in silent fits of laughter. “Ohhhh,” James groaned. “Stupid technical.”

The problem was the sesame seeds. They just didn’t seem to belong anywhere. If they went on the inside, surely they’d have been part of the filling? But there was no way they’d stick on the outside. It was all just stupid and nonsensical and wrong, and James thought that his last words would probably be cursing Paul Hollywood. James decided to just go for it, and hope for the best.

“Decisions, decisions,” he said. “All of them wrong!” the cameraman, who’d just recovered, started to laugh again.

Time management had never been James’ strong suit. He was actually astonished that it’d never caused him bake off trouble before. He’d been so worried about the pastry being too thick, so careful trimming everything down that he was left with barely any time to bake his flaounes.

“Has everyone already got theirs in the oven?” James asked, staring around the tent in horror.

“Yeah,” came an exasperated Scottish voice from behind him.

“I hate you,” James said, “I hate all of you. I mean… I love my fellow bakers.”

It was about then that he realised that Lily had spoken to him, although she was now back to pretending that he didn’t exist. It was both exasperating and upsetting. James forced himself to remember that the bake was what was important here, not Lily and her sulking. His flaounes went in the oven almost ten minutes after everyone else’s. After that, all he could do was wait.

Nadiya and Ian, both of whom looked unreasonably calm, came over to join him.

“The top ones are gonna be raw,” James said, messing up his hair in frustration.

“They’re going to be really neat ones, though,” Ian said, and James thought it was meant to be encouraging.

“Yeah, they look really neat,” Nadiya agreed.

“That’s what they want,” James laughed, although he felt more like screaming. “Neat, and raw.”

James lost the technical. He wasn’t even remotely surprised. He didn’t even care quite as much as he thought he would, he hadn’t had high hopes, and, as was becoming something of a pattern, he could afford to have a bad afternoon on Saturday. James thought it was a little rich for Paul to criticise the way his flaounes looked, given that they hadn’t been provided with any kind of reference for what they were supposed to look like, but he supposed that it probably wasn’t worth raising the point.

“I said the words, didn’t I?” James grinned at the camera.  “I said I wanted it, I sounded cocky, and the universe beat me back down, like, _get in your place_.”

 

Sunday did not start well for James. He got up early, he went for his run, he showered, he went for breakfast. He was on his way back to his room to pick up his jacket and the sheet of instructions he’d made himself for the showstopper when he bumped, quite literally, into Lily Evans. She glared up at him.

“Watch where you’re going, Potter.”

“Believe me,” James said, anger flaring in his chest, “you’re the last person I wanted to see.”

“Good,” Lily folded her arms. “Because I really want you to get out of my way now.”

James considered this for a moment. He was still angry, and he didn’t know why, except, maybe, he thought that Lily was being unfair, blaming him for everything that had happened and making it all his problem, and then not even having the grace to tell him.

“No,” he said. “No. I’m standing right here until you tell me what the fuck has been going on with you the last couple of days.”

“And why would I tell you that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, because we’re supposed to be friends, and you stormed out of my house?”

“Well, let me get this straight for you,” Lily folded her arms. “We aren’t friends. We’re competition. I don’t want to be your friend, I’m not okay with that. I can’t compete with you and then come over and play house, and not just because half the country thinks that I’m fucking you now,” her voice was getting steadily louder, rising to a shout, “I don’t want to be your friend when one of us is going to beat the other one and ruin it!”

“And what about what I want?” James demanded, and he realised, dimly, that he was shouting too. “What about how I feel? God, Lily, you’re one of the most selfish people I’ve ever met. Don’t I get a say?”

“No! No you don’t, not when your say is to step in and rush to my rescue because you’re a patronising arsehole who thinks I can’t take care of myself!”

 _“When have I ever done that?”_ James resisted the urge to slam his fist into the wall, but only barely. “Fucking _hell_ Lily, when have I ever done that?”

“Wednesday!” Lily screamed back. “You didn’t even think about what I wanted! So tell me why I should think about what you want now?”

“I stood up for you because you’re my friend,” James said, his anger abruptly shifting from white-hot to ice. “That’s what I do for my friends.”

“We aren’t friends,” Lily said again.

“Clearly,” James stared down at her, impassive. “What a ridiculous mistake for me to make. Goodbye, Evans.” And with that, James pushed past her, and stormed away.

 

The showstopper was vol-au-vents, and James really didn’t know how he was supposed to make them in any way showy. They were literally just little cylinders of puff pastry with filling. That was never going to look good. Still, best to get on with it. Best to ignore Lily fucking Evans and the inexplicable stick up her arse and do what he needed to do with a smile. James had to keep reminding himself that if he sulked, he’d only make the press worse, and that was just about the worst thing he could think of right then.

Puff pastry wasn’t difficult to make, it was just unnecessarily fiddly and time consuming. James wasn’t the most impatient of his friends; that title went to Sirius, who’s inability to concentrate for longer than ten minutes had been the bane of their teachers. But puff pastry required more focus than James was generally prepared to give.

“You want the dough to roll easily, so you don’t need to use too much pressure. Because the more pressure you use, the more you’re pushing the butter into the dough, which messes up the layering” James told the camera. He wondered, sometimes, if the cameramen had even the slightest interest in baking.

James felt a little ridiculous as he listened to everyone else’s inspirations for their vol-au-vents. Mat’s were his ‘n’ hers, one inspired by his wife. Nadiya’s were old family recipes. And James’…

“This is basically inspired by a sandwich that I had a few years ago. It was top two sandwiches of my life,” James grinned. “It was a pork sandwich and they fried the meat with the fennel and the rosemary, and I… I think about that sandwich quite a lot.”

James took a moment to taste his second filling, a spicy chicken and coriander mix. He coughed. “Yep,” he said. “Definitely got chilli in it.”

The cameraman- James really had to find out his name- laughed again.

How on earth they were supposed to create forty-eight perfectly level vol-au-vents, James did not know. When he baked at home, he never really paid attention to the aesthetics of things. It was all about taste and flavour, not presentation. He could do presentation; he’d managed it before. Just… not today, apparently.

“It’s hard to pick,” James said, sorting through his pastry monstrosities. “They’re all so hideously deformed.”

When time ran out, James stepped back, with a strange mix of relief and irritation. The vol-au-vents looked awful.

“They’re a bit of a mess, aren’t they?” Paul asked, with that terrifying eyebrow raise of his. But that was fine, because he qualified it with praise of the flavours. James decided that he was safe for another week. Lily, James noted, received nothing but praise. He tried not to care.

James couldn’t maintain his indifference when Nadiya received her feedback, though. He’d never been able to cope with crying women, it either stressed him out, or made him want to start crying, too. The moment he saw Nadiya moving to wipe tears from her eyes, and Paul and Mary stop their comments to allow her a moment to compose herself, James darted forward with his handkerchief, pressing it into her hand, and giving her his most encouraging smile.

 

Nobody went to lunch. Instead, they took as may vol-au-vents as they could, and sat outside on blankets, taking advantage of the abrupt change in the weather. The vol-au-vents were quickly devoured, with much enthusiasm. Mel and Sue led the way in this effort, the only two whose appetite weren’t hampered by nerves about the outcome of Paul and Mary’s decision. James was okay with the fact that they were eating all the food, because they then also lead the way in the mass production of daisy chains. James was worried that he might have to talk to Lily, which he wasn’t sure he could do without either losing his temper again, or bursting into tears, but he was spared. Mel’s daughters, who were probably the cutest children James had ever seen, were thoroughly monopolising Lily’s company. He tired to ignore how beautiful she looked, with flowers in her hair, laughing and playing tag with kids who barely reached her knees. It did not work.

Luckily for James, Sue seemed to have decided that what his hair really needed was a daisy chain flower crown, so he was pretty preoccupied with playing the model. He almost forgot to take the flower crown off when they went back in to film the judge’s verdict.

James wasn’t surprised when Alvin went out. Sad to see him go, but not surprised. He’d had a disastrous weekend, and not even Nadiya’s timing fuck-up on the showstopper could have saved him. James went home to London, very grateful that the weekend was over.

 

* * *

 

 

Lily normally loved a good summer storm. But then, she had spent all of her summers since she was eight in Cokeworth, right down on the border between Hampshire and Dorset, and all the ones before that in the Scottish highlands. And now she lived in a shitty student flat in London, and it was raining. While she enjoyed the temporary refuge of the tube station, and steeled herself for what she knew had to come next, Lily took a few moments to berate herself for not picking up up a coat. She already looked like a drowned rat. Part of her just wanted to turn around and go back home. But she couldn’t. She had a mistake to fix.

No, God, no, it was no good. She needed to give herself a kick up the arse. Lily reached into her handbag, took out her phone and opened twitter. There, in her direct messages, was what she needed.

 **the prettiest boy** y’know, if you come over and apologise, James will forgive you. please come back, Evans.

Lily shoved her phone back into her handbag, dipped it shut, and ran out into the deluge. Somewhere, thunder rumbled. She hoped it wasn’t an omen.

By the time she arrived at James and Sirius’ house, it was seven forty-five, and she was soaked through. Lily suspected that she looked like a drowned rat. She raised her hand, and knocked twice. It felt like it took an eternity for someone to answer the door, and when it opened, it was Sirius.

“You came,” he said, smugly. “Good. You make up with Prongs, and do it quick. I want our fifth man back.”

“That was the plan,” Lily said, pushing her dripping fringe out of her eyes. “I- where is he?”

“Come on in,” Sirius said, stepping back to let her past. “I’ll get you a towel.” A pause, and then “Prongs! This is for you!”

James, grumbling quietly, came into the hallway, and froze when he saw Lily.

“Lily?” he breathed. It was a question, and astonishment was written all over his face. God, she’d fucked up,

“I came to apologise,” she said, but it didn’t feel like enough.

“I’m going to leave you to it,” Sirius said, and sauntered off.

“You- to apologise?” James ran a hand through his hair, making it somehow messier.

“I was wrong,” Lily hated that phrase. “I should’ve- I should’ve thought of you, and not just blamed you. I shouldn’t have said what I did, and I’m sorry.”

“Well, that’s mighty big of you,” James folded his arms. “It’s not okay, Lily. I thought we were friends, and then… you just decided that we weren’t, and it wasn’t _okay_.”

“I know,” Lily sighed, “I know, James, I _know_. I’m- I do want to be your friend,” she’d always wanted that, she got that now. She’d started to realise it after they’d fought, after she’d burned the bridge. “I just- I get angry and I blame other people, sometimes. I shouldn’t, but I do. I’m sorry that I lashed out at you.”

“I’m sorry, too,” James said, which astonished her. “Yelling at you probably wasn’t the best plan, yeah?”

Lily smiled a very small smile. “Yeah,” she agreed.

“Should we have the conversation quietly and sensibly without the screaming?”

“That,” Lily said, “would be an excellent idea.”

They adjourned to James’ bedroom, for privacy. It was much neater than Lily had expected it to be. One wall was painted a rich scarlet, the others were all white, under their thick covering in football and movie posters. But there was no mess on the floor, no mess anywhere, except for a little clutter on the desk, and the overflowing bookshelf. Lily had never been anywhere but the kitchen, living room and bathroom of the house before, and none of those had been this tidy. She sat down on the desk chair, and James sat on the bed.

“So,” he said. “What the hell was going on?”

“I… well, basically what I said before,” Lily sighed. “I didn’t want the fact that we’re competitors to ruin it.”

“It wouldn’t,” James said. “You fit here, Lily. The four of us, we get on great, we’re the perfect combination. But you… we need you here, y’know? You’re what’s left. I’ve never seen Sirius take to someone like he has to you, but even _he_ agrees. You’re not just my mate, you’re theirs, too.”

“I get that now,” Lily nodded. “I just… I didn’t want to have it and then lose it. I just- Sev was my best friend for years and years, and then we fought, and I kept trying to forgive him, and then last week… I lost my best friend for good. He isn’t anything like the person I used to know, not anymore. I couldn’t face losing you, too.”

“You have the worst logic, Evans,” James said, but he was smiling. “Pushing us away wasn’t going to help with that.”

“I never said it was logical,” Lily pointed out. “But… I am sorry.”

“You don’t have to be,” James shook his head. “Sirius once… he once told our whole school something about Remus. Something really personal, which I am obviously not going to share. He did it because he was scared that he was going to lose us all, so he threw the spanner in the works and made it happen. We forgave him, though, because that’s what we do. That’s what friends are for. You don’t need to feel bad, alright? You are forgiven. And, you know,” he paused. “I’m sorry for jumping in with the twitter thing and making all the stuff in the papers worse, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Lily smiled. “You’re forgiven,” she said. “I hear that’s what mates do, yeah?”

“Yeah,” James grinned. “So, we are friends?”

“We are,” Lily nodded. “What happens in the tent stays in the tent, yeah? That’s just business. We’ll still be friends.”

“Brilliant,” James said, standing up. “Bake off in two minutes. You staying?”

“I’m not going back out in that rain,” Lily snorted.

“An excellent point,” James gave her a brief appraisal, and then started rummaging in his chest of drawers. “Here,” he said, holding out a rather red and yellow bundle. “Pyjamas. And, um, pants. They’ll be big but they’re warm and dry. If you change we can put your clothes in the dryer and then you can wear them home.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Lily told him, taking the proffered bundle.

Lily returned to the sitting room, clad in James’ pyjamas, which she’d had to roll up several times to stop herself tripping over the bottoms, and the t-shirt, which kept trying to hang off one shoulder, to find that the boys were all waiting for her, the bake off paused on the opening shot of Mel and Sue.

“Evans!” Sirius exclaimed, delighted. “Come on, sit down, nice and quick. It’s starting.”

“I can see that,” Lily said, and settled onto the sofa. It was just she and James, today. Sirius had sat himself on the floor by the foot of Remus’ chair, and was having his hair played with. Everything was right with the world once again.

 

* * *

 

 

 **the prettiest boy** @padfoot

@gingey your hair is adorable my god

 

 **all my friends are idiots** @moony

@padfoot what’s this thing you have about tweeting people who are in the same room as you??

 

 **the mastermind**  @prongs

@moony what’s this thing you have about being a hypocrite?

 

 **the prettiest boy** @padfoot

@moony @prongs why do we always end up here?

 

 **Lily Evans** @gingey

@moony @padfoot @prongs because all of you except Peter are idiots

 

 **i am not an idiot** @wormtail

@gingey finally, the recognition I deserve.


	7. Victorian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the support you've been giving this fic. I'm so grateful. Thank you all as well got not asking about updates this week, that really means a lot. It's helped me get this written without stressing out. My next few weeks are going to be really hectic, so don't expect Sunday or even Monday updates, they'll probably only come on Tuesdays or maybe even Wednesdays.

Lily had long ago decided that the people who ran the bake off were just making it all up as they went along. The concept of Victorian Week served only to reinforce that decision.

It started with meat pies, which only made her miss Sandy. Lily quite liked a good meat pie; she might’ve lived most of her life in Hampshire, but she’d been born Scottish, and she, unlike Petunia, still sounded the part. A good game pie gave her a chance to act the part, too.

“I know very few things about the Victorians,” Lily said, after being pulled to the side on her way into the tent. “Apart from that they had really good frocks.”

“We’re in week seven,” Lily could hear someone saying. “It’s getting into the top end now,” Paul. It was contestant Paul, not judge Paul. “The slightest mistake is not really something you want to be making.”

James punctuated this sentence nicely by dropping an egg.

“Son of a bitch,” he said, grinning. Lily laughed so hard that she nearly dropped her own eggs.

“Made a bit of a mess there already,” James told the camera, chuckling. As soon as he was done, he turned around, and raised an eyebrow at Lily. “Oi, Evans, don’t you laugh at me.”

“Don’t be an idiot then,” she told him, grinning back. Oh, she’d missed this last week, she really had.

“That, love, is asking an awful lot,” James laughed. Lily would’ve replied, but her opportunity was cut short by the arrival of Paul and Mary.

“I’m doing a middle eastern flavour themed game pie,” James told them. Behind him, Lily raised her eyebrows. “So I’m frying the meat in a spice mix.” There was a pantomime of confusion as James tried to pronounce the name of his spice mix, and then it was Lily’s turn.

“One of the first things I ever properly cooked was pheasant,” Lily said, with the oddest feeling that she was going to regret it. “There was a competition at school called Highland Chef, and I won it. I got quite a good nickname of Bird Girl for a really long time after that.” And, that, she knew, Sirius would absolutely make her regret.

She was making her pie with pheasant, pigeon and rabbit, with pork belly for the fat. It was all going to be flavoured very traditionally, with sage and shallots and wine. It was one of her mum’s favourite recipes, and Lily was desperately hoping that she didn’t muck it up too badly. She was just putting her back into the kneading of her pastry when James made a wordless sound of disgust.

“Did you step in the egg?” she asked.

“No,” he shook his head, “though that would’ve been close. Did you _hear_ what Ian’s making his pie out of?”

Lily shook her head, and mentally braced herself.

“Roadkill,” James said, with satisfaction.

Lily made the same kind of sound that James had. “That,” she declared. “Is _vile_.”

“I’m not sure that’s even hygienic,” James looked utterly repulsed.

While everyone else put their oven on high and then turned it down, Lily started off at two hundred degrees Celsius, and then turned it up to two hundred and twenty. For some awful unknown reason, her pie wasn’t getting hot in the middle. She sat on the floor, and tried very hard not to cry. It was the most inconvenient stress response. But once the pie was out of the oven, waiting to be judged, Lily’s stress levels only increased. She pinched the bridge of her nose, and tried not to look at it. The high oven temperature had done nothing for the pastry, which was at least a half-dozen shades darker than everyone else’s’, and it didn’t help Lily’s competitive streak that James had received nothing but praise. She tried to prepare herself for a ruthless barrage from Paul, and for Mary’s disappointed face, which was almost as bad as her mother’s.

It didn’t come. Although Paul didn’t hesitate to point out that the pastry had caught a little, or that she’d overfilled it, or that the pigeon was tough, they still seemed to love it.

“The pastry is crisp,” Mary said, smiling, “which is what we like.”

With that, they walked away, leaving Lily feeling distinctly shell-shocked.

 

The weather was beautiful, which was unusual for an English summer. Lily decided to put off lunch for a little, and take a few minutes to regain her composure. She sat herself down under a tree, and was about to start taking calming breaths when the cameramen found her. Lily agreed to talk to them, so long as they went away very quickly afterwards.

“I was expecting to be hung, drawn and quartered during that judging,” Lily said, “and I wasn’t, which was a blooming miracle.”

And with that, they left her. They were replaced shortly afterwards by James, who looked distinctly sheepish.

“Alright, Evans,” he said. “Thought maybe you’d need my hankie when you vanished off like that.”

“I’m okay,” Lily said, after some consideration of a response. “Just, you know, pleasantly surprised, which seems to be translating itself into shell-shock.”

James appeared to consider this for a moment, “tea,” he declared, after a few seconds. “You need _tea_.”

They had tea, and James had a cheese sandwich, which Lily thought was a vile combination. Then again, she had a slice of the pie James had made, so perhaps she wasn’t innocent of disgusting food combinations herself.

“I wish I could say something bad about it,” Lily said, as she set down her fork. “But that pie deserved the handshake.”

“I will write about this day in my diary,” James said, and Lily wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

“Why didn’t you have any?” Lily asked, raising her eyebrows.

“I’m a vegetarian,” James said, as if this were obvious.

“You ate your vol-au-vents last week!”

“I am a vegetarian on every day except Sunday,” James clarified. “Because Sunday is a day for roast dinners, and I figure I’m allowed one day of indulgence a week.”

“I want to argue with that,” Lily said. “But there’s so much to argue about that I don’t know where to start.”

“I’ll take it as a victory, then,” James said, and as Lily didn’t know where to start arguing with that either, she let him have it. She’d soundly trounce him in the technical, the way she always did, and her bruised ego would be soothed. It was a sound plan.

Only, it didn’t work out like that.

 

“Oh my God,” James groaned, which perfectly summed up how Lily felt.

“Have you ever heard of this?” Lily asked, as she examined the recipe. “Ever, in your life?”

“Nope,” James shook his head. “They’re making things up again, I reckon.”

“You might be right,” Lily said. “I mean, it doesn’t say how long to cook for, and it doesn’t say to put the fruit in.”

“I think we should assume,” James replied, “that we put the fruit in the fruitcake.”

“Smartarse.”

The recipe was fairly useless, and Lily was half-tempted to blame that for the fact that she’d made what could only be described as a cock-up. Instead of heating the gelatine for her sugar paste gently, in a bowl over a pan, Lily had just put it straight in the pan.

“Woops,” she said, without much feeling.  “I’ve just been heating that on full whack,” she lifted up her whisk, and watched the gelatinous gloop drip off it. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

Never one to be deterred, Lily carried on regardless. It was only five minutes later that she admitted defeat and dumped her horrendously lumpy mixture in the bin to start again.

“Bingate,” James whispered, and she glared at him.

After that, everything was the usual smooth process that Lily expected from her technicals, right up until she noticed that, once again, her bake had come out darker than everyone else’s. Her net, so beautifully and carefully constructed, shattered. After a brief panic, Lily laid it down. You almost couldn’t tell it was broken. Her hopes weren’t high, but they weren’t low, either.

Lily came fourth, which wasn’t good, but wasn’t bad either. Or, at least, it _wouldn’t_ have been bad, if James hadn’t come third.

“Ha,” he said, “how d’you like them apples, Evans?”

“I flatly refuse to believe that you didn’t just make that phrase up,” Lily told him, glaring.

 

They had breakfast together on Sunday, more by accident than by design. Although Lily wouldn’t ever have admitted out loud, she was pleased for James. She was, in a weird way, proud of him. She liked that he was doing well. On the other hand, she did have a very powerful urge to trip him up, or possibly crack a mixing bowl over his head.

“Wednesday as normal?” James asked, when a brief lull in conversation left an opening.

“Yeah, definitely,” Lily nodded.

“Brilliant, I’ve got two questions for you, then,” James did not seem to care if Lily wanted to answer the questions or not. “First,” he said, raising one finger, “where do you actually live? And second,” he raised a second finger, just in case Lily couldn’t count, “Sirius reminds me that you promised us a bottle of wine, and wants to know if you’re bringing it this week.”

“Usually,” Lily said, “I live in Cokeworth. Currently, I live in London. I’m there all summer, because that’s how it turned out with the place me and my friends are renting.”

“And the wine?”

“Tell him it’s a surprise,” Lily shrugged.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” James said, grinning.

 

“A lot of wobbles happening this weekend,” Lily said. “Emotionally, structurally…” She had decided that she wasn’t a fan of a Charlotte Russe. She’d heard of them, sure, but she’d never made one before she’d found out that she had to for the showstopper. This was largely because Lily had never felt the need to either make a trifle, or to make a trifle and then surround it with sponge fingers.

The pomegranates were the mistake; retrospect would tell her that. But on that Sunday, Lily very cheerfully put them in her jelly, along with raspberries. She was taking the standard approach, starting with a base layer of sponge, and building from there. She would then have a layer of champagne and pomegranate juice jelly, raspberries, a white chocolate bavarois, and then the whole lot all over again, just because. Lily also had plans for champagne truffles.

“It’s mainly the flavour I’m after with the champagne” she told the camera, smirking, “my aim, essentially, is to just get them trollied.”

“That’s cheating, Evans,” James said, as soon as the camera crew had departed. “Getting the judges hammered, definitely not allowed.”

 “If you’re judged after me,” Lily said, “will you really be complaining?”

James thought about this for a few moments. “No,” he said. “No, I suppose not.”

Lily went back to her bake, and tried not to hope that James cocked up his jelly. The thing was, if he did it right, the judges would love him for being so clever. He’d be Star Baker. If he got it wrong, they’d scorn him. As his friend, Lily wanted the former. As his competition, she was devoutly hoping for the latter. It was a strange feeling.

Once everything was properly baked, refrigerated and otherwise assembled, it was time to move the Charlottes to the cake stands. Both Lily and James managed this with ease. Others were not so lucky. Mat’s split as he was heaving it onto the stand, and whether by accident or by design, Paul managed to make it worse. At the other end of the competence spectrum, Ian was precisely sticking edible silver balls onto a structurally elegant sponge crown, before hoisting it gingerly onto his Russe. It stayed! The other bakers, who had stopped to watch, broke out in devastated, hateful applause. Lily had to restrain a giggle when Nadiya said “Oh, very good” in a voice that positively dripped sarcasm.

When it came to judging, it was a strange mix of better than she’d hoped and worse than she’d hoped. Paul insisted that the pomegranates brought nothing to the table, but the “boozy” jelly delighted Mary. Her ladies’ fingers also received praise, which was nice, but she couldn’t help be a little horror-struck by torrent of abuse the pomegranates received.

James was a lucky, talented git. He pulled off his spongeless Russe, and received nothing but shining praise and admiration from the judges. Lily wanted to hit him. She wanted to hit him even more when he was made Star Baker. But that wasn’t mature, so she hugged him with rib-crushing force instead.

Something very strange happened when they got out of the tent at last. James, accompanied by cameras and Lily, stepped to one side to phone his mum.

“Hello mum!” he said, grinning wider than Lily had ever seen him manage before. “Guess what? I got Star Baker!” As Lily took in the sheer excitement on his face, the joy that was radiating off him, she experienced a feeling in her stomach that was suspiciously like butterflies.

Ah, _fuck_.

  

* * *

 

 

 It took all of James’ self control to stop himself laughing when Lily turned up at his house with a bottle of champagne.

“Subtle,” he told her, grinning. “Really subtle.”

“I have a plan,” was all she said back, and although she was grinning too, she didn’t look at him for any longer than was absolutely necessary. Which was… odd.

They settled themselves on the sofas and chairs, and commenced the now weekly ritual of waiting for Sirius to arrive.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” Lily said, after a few minutes of idle chitchat.

“Only one thing?” Remus raised his eyebrows. “You’re doing better than the rest of us, then.”

“Ha ha,” Lily rolled her eyes. “You’re hilarious, Lupin.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’m here all week.”

“No you’re not,” James said. “You’re leaving for university tomorrow.”

“I should pack,” Remus mused, and then shrugged, and took a sip of his tea.

“You haven’t _packed_?” Peter sounded positively horrified. “I packed two weeks ago and I don’t leave until the weekend and I’m only going across town!”

“Yeah,” Remus shrugged. “But I’m procrastinating.”

“Making up for all the nerding you’re going to be doing when you get back to Aberystwyth?” James grinned.

“I am either doing all the work or no work,” Remus shrugged. “It’s a flaw of mine.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Lily said, “back to the thing I didn’t understand.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” James coughed. “What was it?”

“The first time I came over,” Lily bit her lip, which interested James more than it should. “Sirius was late home, and you knew when he was about to walk in. _How_?”

“Oh,” James grinned, and tried not to feel too smug. “Oh, that’s easy. Minerva gave him away.”

Lily folded her arms, and tossed her hair, and James felt like he was thirteen and noticing girls for the first time again.

“That,” she said, “does not explain _anything_.”

“Minerva is Sirius’ motorbike,” Remus said, with a long-suffering sigh. “He’s very fond of it.”

“She’s named after our head of house at school,” James grinned, and Lily only looked more exasperated, which surprised James, because he’d thought she reached the limit of her frustration with them.

“Still not an explanation.”

“Minerva makes a very distinct noise,” James shrugs. “It takes ten seconds from the time he turns her off, and the noise stops, for him to reach the door.” 

“Why is the motorbike a woman?” Lily asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Because Professor McGonagall is the only woman he ever wanted,” Remus said, in an excellent impression of Sirius’ most dramatic tones.

“That it not true,” Peter said. “I know for a fact that he shagged his cousin. The blonde one, whatshername.”

“Narcissa,” James supplied, helpfully.

“He did _what_?” Lily looked horror-struck. James couldn’t say he blamed her.

“It’s a family dynamic that only makes sense if you’re part of the family,” Remus sighed. “Probably best not to ask.”

“I’m really not sure that I want to ask,” Lily said, with a grimace.

“Oh good,” James said, with as much levity of tone as he could manage. “Because he’ll be here in ten seconds.”

They performed the countdown together. When Sirius entered the living room, he looked more than a little discomfited.

“Why do people always seem to be counting down to my arrival?” he asked, with a frown. “And is that champagne?”

“It’s because we love you,” Remus said, and blew him a kiss. Sirius caught it, and pretended to swoon. James mimed vomiting, because that was what friends did, and the question about the champagne went unanswered.

 

* * *

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@gingey BIRD GIRL ARE YOU KIDDING ME THIS IS EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED

 

**Lily Evans** @gingey

@padfoot Oh, damn. I knew I’d regret that.

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@gingey NICKNAME NICKNAME YOU HAVE A NICKNAME

 

**the mastermind** @prongs

@padfoot you know, I’d think you were exaggerating the excitement if I couldn’t see that you’re practically wetting yourself with glee

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@prongs DO NOT MOCK MY JOY

 

**Lily Evans** @gingey

@padfoot I am not going to let you call me Bird Girl

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@gingey YOU CAN’T STOP ME

 

**all my friends are idiots** @moony

@gingey honestly you should probably give in he is relentless

 

**i am not an idiot** @wormtail

@prongs @padfoot @moony @gingey can we please get off twitter and get back to the show???

 

* * *

 

**Lily Evans** @BirdGirl

I am reluctantly impressed by @prongs. Well done James. You’re going down next week, though #GBBO

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@prongs YOU DID NOT TELL ME WHY WAS I NOT YOUR FIRST CALL I AM BETRAYED

 

**the mastermind** @prongs

@padfoot come on, like you’d be my first call. The woman who gave birth to me takes precedence I’m afraid.

 

**Lily Evans** @BirdGirl

@padfoot you complain here but I can see you rejoicing and toasting him with champagne. Don’t forget that.

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@BirdGirl BIRD GIRL BIRD GIRL BIRD GIRL

 

**Lily Evans** @BirdGirl

@padfoot why are we friends

 

**all my friends are idiots** @moony

@BirdGirl the rest of us have been asking ourselves that for years


	8. Patisserie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah this took about as long as I thought it would... Hopefully this won't happen again next week, but no promises. But, let us all please congratulate Tamal and Flora for making it to the semi-finals and making my life so much easier. Let's wish them luck through one more week and into the final, for the sake of James and Lily!

The curse of the Star Baker. Failure following a week of success. James couldn’t shake the feeling that he was doomed. It wasn’t doing a lot for his nerves, if he was honest.

Cream Horns. James had heard of them, he was, after all, at bake off levels of competence in the kitchen, but he found them baffling. He also wasn’t terribly pleased by the fact that they had to choose their pastry. James and Lily were the only ones doing full puff pastry, which he took as a personal challenge. It wasn’t the only time James’ pastry was challenged, though. Paul the judge took exception to James’ choice of flour.

“I’m just using plain flour,” James said, immediately aware that it was meant to be wrong.

“ _Just_ plain?” Paul asked, his frown intensifying.

“Yeah,” James said, with a nervous little laugh. “What would you have done, Paul?” he had to fight hard to keep petulance out of his tone of voice as he asked.

“Mixed it with strong,” Paul answered, with no hesitation. James couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the man blink.

“Okay,” James had an awful feeling that his voice was going all wobbly. “Well, it’s worked out alright for me.” yep. Definitely got a voice like a prepubescent chid.

James was filling his horns with lime and mascarpone and malt and honey cream. They weren’t traditional flavours, but traditional English flavours were generally boring as shit, so James didn’t mind that so much.

“Ian is doing chocolate pastry,” Lily hissed, as if it personally offended her. “I did chocolate puff pastry how _dare_ he.”

“You may be taking it a little personally, Evans,” James told her, with a grin.

“You just watch. In two weeks, he’ll do peach and lemon or almond and butterscotch,” James couldn’t tell how serious she was, so he elected for a smile and a nod.

“He might not be here in two weeks,” James pointed out. “If I don’t get back to my horns, I _definitely_ won’t be.”

James got to work making his pastry, and tried to ignore how much the silence in the tent discomfited him. He managed this for a whole two minutes, until a cameraman made an appearance. The guy was probably just checking up on his pastry, but James couldn’t resist.

“It’s weird how quiet it is,” James spoke in the closest thing to a whisper he could manage. “I feel like we’re a herd of gazelles being picked off one by one by lions,” he paused before continuing. “Mary and Paul are the lions. They’re hungry for bakers.”

Behind him, Lily laughed. James elected to ignore her, for the sake of his dignity. They appeared to be falling victim to their competitive spirits again. James was doing four turns on his pastry, and Lily was doing six, and he wasn’t telling her that it was a bad idea, even though, as her friend, he kind of wanted to.  Neither did he tell her that she needed to get on with the actual bake and leave her decorations for later, opting to leave that task to Sue instead. It wasn’t very sportsmanlike and he was very sure that his mum would disapprove, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. James justified it by telling himself that he knew very well how excellent a baker Lily was, and that he was absolutely certain she’d be completely fine, and that he had to make sure that he did well enough to stay in because he had the bloody fucking curse of the Star Baker to counteract and he couldn’t fuck up not even a little.

James was right, sort of. Lily did get everything done it time. Her feedback was a real mixed bag. Her pastry was overworked, and too thin, and not flaky enough. She’d tried too many things at once. But the flavours were praised, and her presentation was lovely.

For his part, James did a _cracking_ job, in Paul’s words. His flavours were unusual, but they worked well. His puff pastry was beautifully flaky and crispy. It wasn’t too complicated. He could breathe a small sigh of relief.

 

When lunchtime came, James’ vague sense of guilt for not helping Lily intensified. When he joined her at the table, she looked thoroughly miserable.

“You alright there, Evans?” it did not have the level of tact James had really wanted, but he supposed it conveyed the general gist of his concern.

“I- what?” she blinked a few times. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

James hesitated for a heartbeat or two, and then went right ahead and pressed the issue. “You don’t seem very fine.”

“I…” Lily sighed, bit her lip. “I had a fight with one of my flatmates. A really big fight. Now she’s saying that she wants to move out and we haven’t even started back at uni yet. It’s bothering me, quite a lot. If she moves out then we don’t have a place to live and I can’t- I stress. I’m a very stressed person. I am very, very horribly awfully stressed about this and it’s got me all messed up so now I’m fucking up in the tent and- and- and…” Lily trailed off, and took a deep breath. “I forgot to breathe.”

“Happens to the best of us,” James said, with what he really hoped was a light-hearted, reassuring smile. “What did you fight about?”

“Wednesdays,” Lily said, with another heavy sigh. A part of James that he decided was kind of an arsehole noted that her Scottish accent got stronger when she was upset.

“Wednesdays?”

“She believes the Mail article,” Lily said, which didn’t clarify a lot. “You know, the one about us. She thinks that we’re a couple, and she’s angry because I didn’t tell her.”

“She’s angry that you didn’t tell her that we’re a couple?” James raised an eyebrow. “We’re _not_ a couple.”

“Mary doesn’t seem to want to believe it,” Lily said, with a sigh. “It doesn’t help that I didn’t tell her I was with you the last few weeks. She thinks I don’t trust her.”

“Threatening to move out seems like a pretty extreme reaction,” James sighed. “I’m sorry you have to deal with her being shitty, Evans.”

“Me too,” Lily nodded.

“Should we expect you this week, then?”  James asked, and then promptly realised that it was insensitive and he probably shouldn’t’ve. “God,” he added, as fast as he could. “Ignore me, please. You don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s fine,” Lily dismissed the apology with a wave of her hand. “I’m not letting Mary being ridiculous stop me from having fun with you guys. Besides, I’ll enjoy myself more if I’m with you than I would enduring her scowling at me.”

James tried very hard not to be reminded of Sirius, declaring that he’d come to James’ in the summer holidays whatever his mother said.

“Fair enough,” he told Lily, which was exactly what he’d said to Sirius then. His life seemed doomed to repeat scenes, he thought. So long as Lily didn’t turn up needing a place to live, James could live with a little déjà vu. Not, of course, that he would necessarily _mind_ Lily Evans turning up at his house and needing a place to stay. He’d just prefer it if she didn’t need to live with him.

“We won’t have Remus this week, will we?” Lily asked, startling James out of his reverie.

“Nope,” James shook his head. “He’s back at uni. Peter probably won’t be around either, he’s supposed to be all moved in for uni.”

“So, just the three of us?” Lily raised an eyebrow. “Well, won’t that be fun.”

“Aw, c’mon Evans. You love us.”

 

They had to make mokatines, and not just any mokatines, but mokatines that would look at home in the window of a patisserie. James was not terribly pleased.

“So the first line is ‘make a Genoise sponge’ which is… helpful,” James rolled his eyes. He was more than a little sick of the vague, useless instructions, but he supposed that it was part of the challenge of the technicals. He was actually quite good at Genoise; he’d made it before, and fairly often. James ended up chatting away merrily to nobody in particular for the duration of creation of the sponge mix. He explained the process fairly loudly and clearly, he thought, but it seemed like Paul the contestant was too busy freaking out about not knowing how to make a Genoise to listen to the careful explanation of the process that would have made it so much easier for him.

James decided to give up on Paul, and keep an eye on Lily. She was not having a good day. When she took her sponge out of the oven, James could tell that it was overbaked. He had enough to worry about with his own sponge, though, which had resolutely refused to rise.

“Maybe,” James mused, as he attempted to coat his little sponge squares in buttercream “maybe mine will go in the window of a French patisserie that’s maybe a bit down on its luck, they’ve been through some tough times, but… plucky little guys, they keep on going.”

Behind him, he heard Lily sigh heavily.

“This is probably the worst day of baking to date,” she said.

His mokatines did not look good. His piping was a mess. His fondant was too runny, and his layers of sponger were uneven. Lily’s icing was better, if still runny. Her sponge was, as James had suspected, slightly overbaked. She came third, beating him by a single place.

 

Sunday morning started in what James would describe as an _interesting_ fashion. He was surprised by a knock on the door to his room, and the muffled sound of Lily’s voice as she asked if he was there.

James opened the door, to see her with hair and makeup done, and struggling to hold up her blouse.

“Sorry,” she said, blushing. “I can’t, um, I can’t get the buttons on the back to do up, I can’t reach them to get them to do up which is ridiculous, because I got them undone yesterday.”

“You might’ve made a tactical error with the buttons, Evans,” James grinned. “Turn around, I can’t reach them from here.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Lily said, adjusting herself so that James could get the buttons done. “I wish they wouldn’t make us wear the same outfits on both days, you know? It’s not like I don’t have enough nice clothes for this.”

“Yeah,” James agreed, slipping the last button into place. “I mean, I only have like four decent t-shirts, but honestly, even I could make it work.”

“We should complain,” Lily said, in a tone of voice that James was fairly certain meant that she didn’t plan on doing any such thing.

“We should get breakfast,” James said, after a few moments of thought. They did.

 

If James was going to be completely, totally, one hundred percent honest, he couldn’t see how a religieuse à l’ancienne looked in any way like a nun, or why anyone would take one to a party. Apparently, though, they were used as the centrepiece at the kind of parties Mary Berry attended. The parties where there’s a massive, elaborately iced cake in the middle of the room and everyone parties around the big cake, then eventually they hand out small plates, sit down and eat the cake. Classic partying. But it was not his place to argue the toss, no matter how tempting it was.

James’ éclairs were fairly standard flavours. He saw no need to make things any harder than the process of stacking the éclairs would be anyway. He’d gone for mango and passion fruit, and raspberry and pistachio. Unlike when making his cream horns, James had elected to use strong flour. He was also debating employing the power of prayer to help keep his religieuse à l’ancienne upright. It felt appropriate.

“How high do you think this will be?” Paul the judge, asking Lily. James slowed down his working just for a moment to listen in.

“It’s been around here when I’ve made it at home,” James couldn’t see where Lily was holding her hand without turning around, but she clarified nicely. “A Dalek, essentially.”

“A… Dallick?” James could hear the confusion in Paul’s voice, and stifled a laugh. There was something hilarious about the fact that he couldn’t understand Lily’s Scottish accent, in a schadenfreude kind of way.

“Yes!” Lily seemed utterly baffled by Paul’s lack of comprehension.

“Yes, a Davros!” Sue seemed to be unable to take the tension any longer. Alas, Paul did not seem to catch on.

“What’s a Dallick?”

“A Dalek!” Sue’s frustration was audible, and it was an effort for James not to laugh.

“From Doctor Who,” Lily added, helpfully. “A Dalek.”

“Oh, a Dalek!” success! Paul had finally caught on. “You’re saying it in Gaelic,” he told Lily.

“Gaelic?” she asked, and James could picture the eyebrow raise. “A Gaelic Dalek?”

“A Daelic,” Paul said, with something unreasonably close to triumph. Lily laughed, and James wondered if it sounded as forced to everyone else as he thought it did.

No disasters befell James during the baking of the actual éclairs, for which he was grateful. He arranged them neatly on cooing racks, and busied himself with his pastry bases.

“So this is the shortcrust pastry that’s going to make up the discs that go between the tiers for this,” James explained, as he rolled out his dough. “They’ve got a lot to carry on their little pastry shoulders, so… big responsibility, guys!”

As it turned out, James’ pastry discs were some of the only ones that held up their choux pastry loads for the duration of their two-hour lunch break. Paul the contestant’s lower tier collapsed completely, Nadiya’s looked like the leaning tower of Pisa, and Lily had removed her top two tiers for fear of the third collapsing.

In flavours too, James met with more success than Lily. They were _lovely_ , and his baking strategy had been well thought through. He walked away, confident that he’d absolutely saved himself. All there was left to do was hope that Lily had saved herself, or, at least, not done worse than Paul the contestant.

 She did, but only be the skin of her teeth. Her flavours seemed to have gotten lost somewhere; Paul and Mary couldn’t taste either of them properly. But when the time came for judgement, it was Paul who left, and Nadiya who beat James to a repeat Star Baker, and somehow, on the train home, despite a good weekend of baking, James was glad that it was over.

  

* * *

 

 

It felt weird, Lily thought, being in the house without all four boys. Remus was in _Wales_ of all places, at about the furthest edge of the place, and Peter was on the other side of London, catching up with his uni mates. It was just her, James and Sirius. The three of them crowded together on the sofa in a tangle of limbs, although they most definitely did not fit, and were perfectly content with their position. Lily ended up practically sat in James’ lap, and after a brief consideration, decided that mentioning this would make it awkward and elected not to comment.

They ordered Chinese takeaway, because neither James nor Sirius could be particularly bothered to cook, and Lily didn’t live there. It was a little tricky, eating a beef chow mien while participating in an impromptu puppy pile, but Lily managed okay. She was resourceful like that. And, it seemed that, even with only James and Sirius present, simply being there melted her stress away.

 

* * *

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@prongs why do you do so much of your baking on the floor??

 

**the mastermind** @prongs

@padfoot it’s peaceful down there!

 

**i am not an idiot** @wormtail

@prongs @padfoot the real question is how that looks anything like a nun

 

**the mastermind** @prongs

@wormtail yeah I had the same thought??

 

**i am not an idiot** @wormtail

@prongs OH!! I THINK I’M STARTING TO SEE THE NUN!!

 

**Severus Snape**  @torturedgenius

And once again, success in the Great BRITISH Bake Off goes to someone not even from here… #GBBO

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@torturedgenius ah yes. This beautiful sacred land, led by a PM who FUCKED A PIG. Truly the English must be protected at all costs.

 

 


	9. Chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy, we're finally here! Those of you who watch the Bake Off irl might notice a slight... alteration. Fear not, I know what I'm doing. Only one week of baking left!!!

It’s a simple fact of life that at some point, every contestant on the Great British Bake Off will, at some point, cover their bake in tiny macaroons. Lily was holding onto the fact that at least hers wouldn’t be pink.

The first bake of the weekend was a chocolate tart. Lily honestly couldn’t see what could go wrong with that, which was probably her first mistake. Or maybe the first mistake was giving herself too much to do. She really didn’t know anymore. The tart itself would be dark chocolate pastry, passion fruit custard, milk chocolate mousse and then a dark chocolate ganache. And then there would be the macaroons, because at this point it was probably the law or something.

James was doing nothing anywhere near so complicated, which gave Lily more pause for thought than she’d have liked. It killed her to admit it, but he was quite probably a better baker than she was. Or, at least, he was better at baking in the tent environment and managed, unlike her, to leave all his stress outside the tent and only worry about what he was meant to be doing.

“I’m just aware that everyone else looks much busier than me,” James said, with a little sigh. “ Maybe I should’ve done a tiered chocolate tart? I think it’s just because I’ve got Lily behind me and she’s making about six billion different elements to hers, so it’s a bit…”

“I should probably be just concentrating on a tart and that’s it, not venturing into other minefields, but I always do…” Lily replied, although she didn’t actually look at James as she said it, so who knew if he realised it was directed at him?

Her second mistake was the passion fruit custard. It looked as if it were venturing into the realm of scrambled eggs. Nothing to do but put the mousse layer on and shove it in the freezer, though. Lily was just shutting the door when she realised that James was behind him.

“Oi,” she said. “No snooping.”

James laughed at her.

He did better than her, of course he bloody did. She couldn’t even be annoyed with him for it, not anymore; his little smile at positive feedback was the cutest thing, and she couldn’t make herself resent it now. That made her want to drown herself in chocolate, if she was honest, but she had bigger problems. Her bake did not taste as good at it looked. She’d been right, the passion fruit had made itself into scrambled eggs, and her macaroons were dry and overbaked. Her pastry was crisp, though, there was that. She had good flavours, good layers, it looked good.

“I mean it wasn’t a complete disaster,” Lily said, sighing. “But for a semi-final signature it was pretty catastrophic…”

 

Lunch was a welcome end to her morning of disappointment. Lily sat with James, because that was what they did, and occasionally, she stole a few of his crisps.

“How’s the housemate situation?” he asked, after he’d devoured three sandwiches.

“Worse,” Lily sighed. “She’s found somewhere else to live, and we’ve got to inform the landlord that she’s leaving. And then we have to find a replacement, which is hellish in itself, and now it turns out that our third person is thinking of dropping out, which serves us right for taking a fresher, doesn’t it, and it looks like I’m about to be, you know, _homeless_.”

“Shit,” James raised his eyebrows. “That bad, huh?”

“Yep,” Lily made sure that the “p” popped. It cheered her up a little. “It’s all an enormous mess, and I seem to have lost my ability to bake, just to top it all off.”

“Don’t be stupid, Evans,” James shook his head. “You’re brilliant. You wouldn’t have made it this far if you weren’t. Just you wait, this time next week, you’ll be here, same as me, and we’ll be battling it out to the end.”

“Well,” Lily raised an eyebrow. “I admire your optimism, and I really, really hope that you’re right.”

 

Lily had honestly thought that she was past the point of telling herself that she could make up for a bad morning by doing well in the technical, but it seemed that old habits died hard. She even had a modicum of confidence to build on. Which was, of course, when it all went weird.

“Now Bakers,” Mel said, “because this technical challenge is so quick, we’re going to stagger your start times. I’m going to be asking three of you to leave the tent.”

Lily was the only one left, alone at her workstation. She had one hour and fifteen minutes, and she had to make a chocolate soufflé.

“This is the least funny thing I have ever done in my life,” Lily said, and she had no idea why she was laughing as she said it. “There is absolutely nothing in front of me! Absolutely _nothing_ helpful! Number one, make a chocolate crème patisserie. Okay. Number two, make a meringue. Number three, make a soufflé. I have never made a soufflé in my _life_ before!”

Lily had never made a soufflé because her mum didn’t believe in them. She said that they were silly and unnecessarily fiddly and highly overrated as a test of skill. Lily made a mental note to demand an apology for that.

 Ian was the next person in the tent. Lily tried not to be disappointed. She’d been hoping for James. Her heart sank just a little bit further when the third baker in the tent was Nadiya. She was very fond of Nadiya, she really was, but she’d have given almost anything in the world to have James in there with her.

When Sue came to take the soufflé away, Lily crouched down and peered around the edge of her workstation to listen to what they were saying.

“Evans,” James whispered, “you’re on the floor. Why are you on the floor?”

“My despair is weighing me down,” she said, and he huffed out a quiet laugh.

When it came to be time for his feedback, they stood together, almost not daring to breathe, and held hands. It didn’t stop her heart hammering.

James came second. Lily _won_. It was the semi final, and she won the technical.

  

* * *

 

 

On Sunday morning, James Potter did not go for a run. Instead, he made a phone call.

“Fuck you, Potter, it’s six am,” Sirius said, which was nice for Sirius at that time of day.

“We might have an emergency,” James said, electing not to beat about the bush.

All Sirius said was “ah”, because that was all that needed saying.

“It’s looking like Lily might need a place to stay in a matter of some urgency fairly soon.”

“Then she comes here,” Sirius said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and for a heartbeat or two, James faltered.

“Padfoot,” he continued, as gently as he could, “you don’t like people. Are you really just going to let one live with us?”

“Evans isn’t people,” Sirius said, as though this too were obvious. “She’s us.”

James didn’t know what to say to this, so he didn’t.

“Alright,” he said. “If the worst should happen, she comes and lives with us.”

 

* * *

 

Lily’s idea of the worst that could happen was very different from James Potter’s, although she didn’t know it. For her, the very worst thing would be to have to leave the Bake Off, when she was so nearly in the final. To make it to the end, that was all she wanted now. Of course, winning would be nice. Winning would be the ideal, but Lily was not going to put all of her eggs into that basket. Just getting that far would have to be enough.

For most of Sunday, she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to do it. They had to use biscuits, they had to use white chocolate, the whole thing hat to be three dimensional. What they did with those things was up to them. Lily was making a carousel, or, at least, she was trying to. She’d been up half the night in the weeks before making her little horse mould for her carousel. And there was Paul, telling her it looked like a dog. It wasn’t doing a lot for her confidence.

“You look a bit like you might be sick, Evans,” James said, leaning against her workstation. “You okay?”

“I honestly couldn’t say for certain,” Lily sighed. “Have you seen what Ian’s doing? He’s going to make a _well_ a _chocolate well_ and I have to beat him.” it took a lot of effort to keep the panic out of her voice. It’d just occurred to her that her biscuits were more fragile that was entirely sensible. On the other hand, James had just burned his biscuits a little, which vaguely reassuring. Lily didn’t say anything, thought, because nobody else was talking, and it wasn’t helping her nerves.

It was all going sort of well, apart from the whole timing thing, until it came to assembling the carousel. Her octagonal whatever it was fell apart he moment she tried to slide it on top of the cake, and yet, by some miracle, it looked alright when it was time to present.

James was judged first. Lily crossed her fingers in her lap, and hoped for the best. He did not do as well as he might’ve done. Not neat enough- and if his wasn’t, then hers absolutely couldn’t be.

As it turned out, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that it didn’t taste good. It seemed to be a theme for her that weekend. Her chocolate horses were very good, but they could still taste the bicarb in her cake. Her puff rice, which hadn’t actually been intended for consumption was too bitter, and her whole carousel collapsed. She could hear James sniggering in the background.

 

Lily did not eat a single bite of lunch. She sat, with one of her tiny hands enveloped in James’ much larger one, and tried not to throw up. When they went back into the tent and sat down on their stools, James sat next to her, keeping a firm hold on her hand. It helped a little more than Lily had thought it would. She barely registered when Nadiya was awarded Star Baker, the information couldn’t fight its way past the panic surrounding her brain. But them Sue stepped forward.

“It’s my great sadness to say that the baker who will be leaving us this week,” she said, “is Ian.”

Lily’s emotions warred for dominance as she took this news in. When no clear winner emerged, she burst into tears.

  

* * *

 

 

James got the call on Tuesday, which was sooner than he'd expected.

"Evans?" he was _supposed_ to say hello, that was how normal people answered the phone.

"James! James, oh thank God. I- my flatmates, they've both decided to leave so it's all a mess now and I've called my mum and had a huge freak out but that's not helping because I don't have anywhere to live and- help?" Lily said all of this in one breath. James raised his eyebrows, which wa pointless as Lily couldn't see.

"Deep breaths," he told her. "Deep slow breaths. Then text me your address and pack a suitcase. I'll come and get you."

"You- really?"

"Really. It's going to be fine," James did his best attempt at a calming voice. "We'll sort out a moving van and get everything else soon. How long do you have?"

"Until next week," Lily huffed out a sigh, and it made the line crackle. "God, James, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," James told her. "You're my friend, I'm happy to help."

  

* * *

 

 

When Lily woke up on Wednesday, she didn’t know where she was. This was unusual for her, and was made more confusing by the fact that the room she was in contained a surprising number of her possessions, despite the fact that it definitely was not her bedroom. It took her all of two minutes to remember where she was and why she was there. With a groan, Lily got out of bed, and set about putting on clothes.

When she made her way downstairs to the kitchen, Sirius was waiting for her. He was wearing what appeared to be James’ football shirt, odd socks, hot pink boxers, and an apron with a picture of a dog on it. 

“Morning,” he said, with a grin. “Fancy a fry up?”

Lily did. She and Sirius sat together at the kitchen table, and between them they demolished a truly heroic quantity of bacon and eggs. James had toast, and rolled his eyes at the two of them, and how much they were eating.

 

It should’ve been weird, Lily thought, actually living with these idiot boys. It should’ve felt like she was intruding in their home, but it didn’t, not in the slightest. Sirius had taken the day off work to help her mover her things from her old flat to their house. He seemed to have decided that Lily would stay there, and if she was being honest, Lily wasn’t sure that she objected. It wasn’t far from uni on the tube, and she had her own goddamn bathroom, and her housemates were ridiculous and her best friends and she was _happy_. It filled her up, almost overwhelmed her, as she and James curled up together on the sofa. Sirius took the chair, rolling his eyes at them. Lily pretended that she didn’t know why.

Lily wasn’t actually sure that she wanted to watch the bake off that week. It felt like confirmation that she’d made it to the final would be too much to ask for. She couldn’t help expecting to find that the whole thing was just a fever dream, or wishful thinking, or something.

 

* * *

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

SO there’s only one week left which sucks. On the other hand at least I don’t have to endure the missing raspberry for much longer #GBBO

 

**Lily Evans**  @BirdGirl

@padfoot missing raspberry??

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@BirdGirl yeah in the title sequence the cake is short one raspberry

 

**Lily Evans**  @BirdGirl

@padfoot WELL FUCK ME SIDEWAYS SO IT IS

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

I HAVE TWO FRIENDS IN THIS CONTEST IT IS ENORMOUSLY STRESSFUL @prongs @BirdGirl GUYS I AM SO WORRIED ABOUT YOU BOTH

 

**the mastermind** @prongs

@padfoot @BirdGirl god you’re such a drama queen

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@prongs @BirdGirl it’s a part of my charm

 

**Lily Evans**  @BirdGirl

@padfoot you are not even slightly charming

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@BirdGirl that wounds me to my very soul, Evans

 

**Severus Snape**  @torturedgenius

And not a single one of the finalists of the Bake Off is actually British. Typical.

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@torturedgenius Are you ignoring Evans, Snivellus?

 

**Lily Evans**  @BirdGirl

@padfoot @torturedgenius I am half Polish. But I am also BRITISH so you can fuck right off, Sev. I’m blocking you now. Bye-bye.

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@BirdGirl good god, Evans, I’ve never been more attracted to a woman than in this moment.


	10. The Final

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the fact that this took so long. My personal life has been busy, and I simply haven’t had time. There will be one more chapter, which I hope to have done in the next two weeks. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's been leaving kudos and reviews, it means so much! I am on tumblr (alrightblack) so feel free to drop me a message!

It probably should’ve been weird, getting the train up with Lily. James felt like it was supposed to be weird. But it wasn’t, and that was probably because they were living together, and once you’ve seen someone stumbling out of the bathroom in Hello Kitty pyjamas, boundaries tend to blur a little. They sat next to one another in silence, which probably should have been uncomfortable, but wasn’t. Lily got caught up on her reading. James pretended to do his, and instead doodled in the margins of his notepad. He could’ve kicked himself when he saw that what he’d drawn were the letters _L.E_ in a little love heart.

 

The tent felt empty with only three of them in it. Lily was over the aisle from James, instead of behind him, which James supposed was probably for the best. He needed all his concentration this week; he could not afford to be distracted by Lily. As it turned out, it wasn’t the fact that he was a weak, weak man when it came to Lily Evans that screwed him over. No, when the fuck-up came, it was entirely his own fault.

James’ iced buns were the only ones without flavoured dough. He wasn’t flavouring the icing, either, and both the girls were, and that didn’t feel right. Forcing himself to remember that it would all be fine if he got the fillings right, James got on with it. He and Nadiya were both making one batch of dough, and splitting it. Lily was making two lots, each one a different flavour. James knew from spending the last week alternating practises in the kitchen that her buns were going to be delicious. He’d been nicking them when she wasn’t looking.

Everything was going to be alright, so long as his fillings were good. Eight of his buns would be filled with cinnamon and apple, and eight with toffee and marmalade. The apple and cream ones came out okay, except for the icing. The marmalade ones should have had crème pat in them, for an extra softness. Only, of course, because it was the final, the crème pat did not set, and therefore did not make it into the bun. Paul had called it a _marmalade butty_ , and James couldn’t say that he blamed him.

Lily did wonderfully. He’d been half hoping that she’d make a rookie mistake and forget to put sugar in her dough or something, but it wasn’t to be. James was bursting with pride as he eavesdropped on her feedback.  They had an _even shape;_ the filling had a good finish. They were perfect. _Dynamite_. _Sheer heaven on a plate_. James wanted to hug her.

 

Lunch was a tense affair. The three of them sat together, in near silence, until, with seemingly no prompting whatsoever, Lily looked up at Nadiya, and beamed.

“You’re going to win,” she told her. “Promise, I’m not trying to jinx it, but you really _really_ are.”

Nadiya shook her head, and launched into a protest. Somehow, James ended up laughing. He was struck, sometime after he ended up with one arm around Lily’s waist, and the one hand holding Nadiya’s, that he’d made more than one friend, in all this. He was also very acutely aware of the fact that he wanted to kiss Lily Evans. On balance, he decided that then wasn’t the right time.

 

Six raspberry mille-feuilles. That was the technical. Lily looked about as terrified as James felt; he’d never seen a mille-feuille. He hadn’t heard of one, either. And the thing needed rough puff. The bastards.

“I’m not ignoring the instructions,” James said, “I’m _interpreting_ the instructions.”

Nobody seemed to be talking, except James, who’d decided to voice his complaints, because it made him feel better.

“The instructions for making a jam just say _make a jam_ ,” he hissed. On the other side of the room, Lily was busying herself doing just that, and seemed to be perfectly relaxed. Still, it was good to see that everyone else looked confused by the sugar syrup, too.

“It’s the worst pastry in the world ever,” James said, to nobody in particular. He would’ve sworn to that statement in court, honestly, although he was willing to bet that in a few days, he’d look back on it and know that he’d done worse.

His mille-feuilles were easily the worst. They looked a mess. The pastry was rushed. The moment he set them down on the table, James was certain he’d lost the challenge. He wanted to scream, but he’d transcended fear and panic, and instead reached a state of outward calm that was mainly sobbing hysterically, but internally. He was perfectly correct. He came third in the technical. Lily came second. Nadiya won.  James couldn’t bring himself to be surprised.

 

James and Lily went down to breakfast together on Sunday morning, with every expectation of it being a thoroughly unremarkable affair. They were, therefore, nothing short of astonished to see Remus, Sirius and Peter sipping orange juice, and grinning at them.

“What the fuck,” James said. It wasn’t so much a question as a statement of confusion.

“Morning, Prongs,” Sirius said, as if they were passing outside the bathroom at home. “We’ve come to watch.”

“Oh,” Lily said, “ _damn._ Mum.” And, with that, she ran off.

James thought for a moment, “what the fuck?” he said, again. This time, it was edging into question territory, and Remus latched onto that with something akin to relief.

“Friends and family get to watch the final task,” Remus rolled his eyes. “A few of the old contestants are around somewhere.”

“They came to interview us yesterday,” Sirius said, looking far more proud of himself than this statement merited. “We told them that you’re alright.”

James was prevented, rather than saved, from replying to this by the arrival of Lily and her mother.

“Hey,” Lily said, beaming. “James, this is my mum, mum, this is m- this is James.”

“Pleased to meet you,” James said, because he was. He was about to hold his hand out for Mrs. Evans to shake, when she pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you,” she told him. “Thank you for helping Lily, and for being a friend to her.”

It took a few moments of spluttering before James was able to formulate a proper response to this. “There’s, uh, there’s really no need to thank me,” James said. “None at all. I was just helping a friend. And I wasn’t the only one, Sirius was the one who agreed to let her live in our house.”

“Your house?” Mrs. Evans raised her eyebrows. “You two live together?”

“Oh yes,” Sirius grinned. “But not like that, James is a bastion of heterosexuality.”

Remus burst out laughing. James trod on his foot.

“Anyway,” he said, pointedly. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Evans.”

Breakfast did not get any easier from there.

 

It turned out that the only way to make the showstopper more nerve-wracking was to have an audience. James was painfully aware of the people watching through the windows of the tent, or, at least, he would’ve been if the weather hadn’t taken a turn for the autumnal and started pissing it down. The challenge wasn’t even that complicated. It baffled James how simple it was. At least three tiers of a classic British cake, how hard could that be?

Apparently, if you were James Potter, and an idiot, it could be very hard. But he wasn’t thinking about that. He was thinking about the fact that Lily had decided to make, of all things, carrot cake.

“So,” James said, raising one eyebrow, and allowing himself a smirk. “Isn’t that cannibalism? Eating your own kind?”

“I am not above committing murder,” Lily said, pointing her knife at him. “Know that.”

“What’re you decorating it with?” James asked. “Putting carrots on it?”

“Well, yes. And, don’t day a damn word, Potter, but I’m putting gingersnaps on top.”

James burst out laughing.

“You can fuck off now,” Lily told him, but she was laughing too.

His own bake wasn’t quite so standard. It was almost a sticky toffee pudding, only it was more a fruitcake now, and he wasn’t sure how he’d managed that. It took an absurdly long time for him to get the fruit chopped and everything mixed. His sponges, three of them, three very full tins, were going in the oven at the same time as the very last of Lily’s. It looked like she was doing five tiers. James’d counted ten sponges, anyhow. He was a tiny bit intimidating.

“Got three cakes in the oven,” James said,  “pan of toffee cooking, and two pans of caramel,” he felt a little like screaming. He hated multitasking.

Twenty minutes passed in a confused haze, and the weather cleared up. James could’ve kissed someone he was so happy. Unfortunately, the improved weather didn’t just mean that he and his sugarwork stood a chance. It meant that there was a crowd outside the tent. With three minutes to go, James was putting the finishing touches on his creation. It looked very Halloween. Lily was putting lemongrass in the tops of her gingersnaps, to make them look like carrots. There were three of them, on her top tier, at the centre of a spiral of chopped walnuts. The edges of each cake were decorated with little fondant carrots. It looked very neat, and very delicious. James wanted to hug her.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Sue declared.  “Bake Off twenty fifteen is over!”

James cheered. At an unspoken agreement, the three bakers met in the middle of the tent, and hugged.

It was the most nerve-wracking judgement they’d ever had. Paul gave James’ bake a look like it’d murdered his firstborn. But there was praise, which took James aback a little. Mary called it _beautiful_. Paul actually sounded impressed.

Lily was last to get her feedback. There was a beat of silence, and then,

“That’s one of the best carrot cakes I’ve ever had,” Paul said. James wanted to run and hug Lily right then and there.

 

While they waited for Mary and Paul to make their decision, James and Lily went and sat a little way away from everybody else. They could see Sirius, Remus and Peter looking around for them, but James felt no urge to move.

“Whatever happens,” he said, “I’m glad that it did.”

“Me too,” Lily said, and slipped her hand into his. For a minute, or maybe ten, they sat in silence together. James was suddenly aware that there were a lot of things he wanted to say to Lily, but somehow, he couldn’t form any of them into words.

They couldn’t stay in their secluded little spot forever, though. part of being a finalist was going and serving your final bake to the assembled crowd of your friends and relatives, and so, to James’ great disappointment, he and Lily separated. He couldn’t have said how long it took for Mary, Paul, Mel and Sue to exit the tent, but it felt like an eternity and like no time at all.

“Lovely finalists,” Sue said. “If you’d care to step up.”

They did. James and Lily stood, one on each side of Nadiya.

“With real pleasure,” Sue continued. “The winner of the two thousand and fifteen Great British Bake Off is,” there was a pause, in the time honoured tradition of game shows everywhere, “Nadiya.”

James hugged her. He couldn’t honestly say that he’d have made a different decision.

There was a lot of hugging, after that. James hugged what seemed to be every other person who’d been involved with the final, including the cameraman who found him so funny. Everyone, but Lily. He looked around for her, perhaps bordering on frantic, and felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Behind you, Potter,” she said. James turned around, and pulled her into his arms. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d lifted her off her feet a little. Her arms were around his neck, and she seemed to be laughing.

“We didn’t win,” he told her. “It’ll never have to be awkward.”

“Never,” she confirmed, sounding as delighted as he felt. “It’s over. It’s over and we’re still friends.”

“Of course we are,” James said, moving back to look at her. She was smiling, beaming, There was a smudge of icing on her cheek. He didn’t think she’d ever looked more beautiful.

For two heartbeats, nothing happened. They stared at one another, and then, although James would never after recall how it happened, they were kissing. His hand was tangled up in her hair, and she had one hand gripping a fistful of his t-shirt, and somewhere, someone was wolf whistling, and James didn’t think he’d ever been happier in his life.

“Well,” Lily said, after a few moments. “At least the _Daily Mail_ has something to write about now.”

James laughed, rolled his eyes, and kissed her again.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Sirius said, smirking. “The question is whether or not they put you two and your exhibitionist tendencies on the telly.”

Lily glared at him. “It was only kissing,” she said, and kicked him.

“Ouch,” Sirius said, in tones that made it very clear that it hadn’t hurt one bit.

“It didn’t look like only kissing,” Remus grinned. “It looked like kissing with _intent_.”

“Moony,” James said, with a smile that Lily could only describe as _affable_ , “Padfoot. My dearest friends. I’m going to have to ask you to stop teasing my girlfriend now.”

Lily grinned, and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re adorable,” she told him. James beamed at her.

“I’m going to have to ask you all to shut up,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “I still want to watch the show.”

 

* * *

  

**all my friends are idiots** @moony

@padfoot you know who wins why are you so nervous

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@moony BECAUSE THIS IS NERVE WRACKING also some of it is anticipation

 

**all my friends are idiots** @moony

@padfoot yeah I suppose I see what you mean

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

AND THERE GOES NADIYA MAKING ME CRY #GBBO

 

**Severus Snape**  @torturedgenius

Absolutely disgusting, putting a display like that on national TV #GBBO

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@torturedgenius absolutely disgusting, walking around with a face like yours

 

**Severus Snape**  @torturedgenius

@padfoot Oh, what a stunning argument. I’m blown away by the force of your reasoning.

 

**Severus Snape**  @torturedgenius

@padfoot I know Lily better than you and this isn’t like her. You and Potter have turned her against me.

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@torturedgenius You want reasoning? Fine. You’re jealous and bitter because Lily chose James, and who can blame her?

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@torturedgenius you throw around racial slurs for fun, you have an old photo of her as your header which is really fucking weird and you called her a slut.

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@torturedgenius James, on the other hand, treats her with respect and meets the basic standards of a decent human being.

 

**the mastermind** @prongs

@torturedgenius It’s Lily. I can’t be bothered to unblock you. I just wanted you to know that I agree with what Sirius said, and that I don’t want you in my life.

 

**the mastermind** @prongs

@torturedgenius We aren’t friends any more. We haven’t been for a long time and you know it. You don’t know me. James does. We’re all blocking you now.

 

**the prettiest boy**  @padfoot

@torturedgenius Goodbye, I won’t miss you, and it hasn’t been fun.

 

* * *

 

Lily passed James’ phone back to him, and smiled.

“Better?” he asked, grinning.

“Better,” she nodded. “Only one thing left to do.” She took her own phone out of her pocket, smiling to herself.

 

* * *

  

**Lily Evans**  @BirdGirl

Since Sunday, James Potter (@prongs) and I have been in a relationship. This has bugger all to do with the Daily Mail. Wish us luck!


End file.
